


Snakes

by Laramidian_Phantoms



Series: When So Many Have Died [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcoholism, Currently: a lot of hurt/comfort, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Halo: Combat Evolved, Homophobia, Implied Child Abuse, Internalized Homopobia, Internalized gaslighting, Islamophobia, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of creepy underage obsessions, More to be added as the story goes on - Freeform, Multi, No Smut, Shitty reactions to other people having trauma, Thanks TJeffs for being gross, Thanks TJeffs for being gross pt. 2, The Slowest of Slowburns, fun times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramidian_Phantoms/pseuds/Laramidian_Phantoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For John Laurens, it's easier to bury his head in the ground sometimes.</p><p>Essentially, exploring what led up to the events referenced in Haunting, the first part of this series. Starts a few years after 9/11. Currently a NaNoWriMo project, do not expect very frequent updates because I am a busy college student.</p><p>Was, up until 10/31/16, called "Raise A Glass". Changed to "Snakes" to better fit this series' proclivity towards Bastille/P!ATD song titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't any explicit violence in this chapter, but there is discussion of the start of the War on Terror.

**9/15/01**

 

Henry didn’t take his wife’s death particularly well.

 

The morning after the funeral, John Laurens wandered down the stairs to grab some breakfast. At the table was his father, head down on his arms. A bottle of gin was on the table, and an empty glass was loosely clasped in his hand. John tiptoed around the table, and he opened a cabinet. Suddenly, he heard his father stirring.

 

“Father,” John gently called out. His father was muttering indeterminately, and John walked over.

 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He walked over and reached out to touch his father’s shoulders when Henry Laurens drunkenly sat up, a scowl etched on his face.

 

“Not without her,” he whispered. He gripped his cup with ferocity and grabbed the gin bottle. John backed away as he watched his father pour himself a glass and down it, the alcohol’s bite causing Henry’s face to clench. He nodded and headed back up the stairs, making a mental note to guide the children to the second kitchen in the vacant apartment-house on the other side of their estate when they woke up.

 

He had figured that it was an inevitability that his father would turn to alcohol, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. His father was a rather angry drunk, and there was no way that his violent tendencies when sober would fade away now. His mother had been the other half of the floodgates keeping the younger children safe from Henry’s rages.

 

But now, that was gone, and John didn’t know if he’d be able to protect them.

 

***

 

**1/25/04**

 

John knew he could hold his liquor. Inbetween the drinking competitions between him and his father when he was a younger teenager, the height and muscle he gained in his later high school years, and his desire to never get hungover, he set limits on his drinking at college parties. As a freshman, he looked around at the opening winter semester party at his friend Hercules’ suite. The room throbbed with bodies, aching for affection and drinking their discontent into the next morning’s hangover. But John lingered, sipping at his own solo cup filled with water. He didn’t want to get a headache for tomorrow’s classes. A trap song started, and John smiled. Lafayette smiled from across the room, her larger-than-life ponytail bobbing to the beat. Suddenly, she spotted him, and grinned, grabbing the arm of a nearby stranger. John cocked an eyebrow as Lafayette pulled a short, scrappy young man to John.

 

“Alex,” she said, turning back to the young man, “This is the person I’ve been ranting about.”

 

“Oh, really,” John said, smiling at her and glancing at this ‘Alex’ person. His black hair was pulled back into a bun, and the scruff on his face framed a smirk. John looked down his slight frame, grinning at the “Mission Unaccomplished” shirt he hid under a light grey zipper hoodie. His legs looked nice in the dark blue jeans that ended with snow boots. Lafayette cleared her throat gently, and John looked at her.

 

“I was just saying that, since you are a Political Science major currently, you could help Alex around the department,” she said, grinning madly. John smiled, and turned towards Alex.

 

“Well, I can,” he said, getting suddenly lost in the dark doe eyes framed by long, black eyelashes. he lost his place for a second, when Lafayette clapped happily.

 

“Alright, well, I need to go find my brother, I’ll see you,” she said, pointing to Alex, “later.” She winked at John, who blushed. He was starting to regret letting slip that he might be interested in men last semester: since then, Lafayette had been using her keen skill for attracting the entire gay community together to ask John out. He turned back to Alex and smiled shyly.

 

“My name is John,” he said. Alex, unlike the other boys Lafayette had tried to set John up with, was looking at his face rather than checking out his package. Alex smiled slightly.

 

“Alex,” he said quietly.

 

“I gathered,” John said. “So, PoliSci?” John folded his arms, almost-empty solo cup in his hand.

 

“Yeah,” Alex responded, looking down at the ground and stretching his arm to scratch the back of his neck. He looked back up at John and smiled. “I don’t want to throw away my shot.”

 

John lightly guffawed. He wasn’t expecting Alex to be so cheesy so soon into the conversation. Alex looked at him, concern and hurt hinting at the corners of his mouth.

 

“It’s just funny, because that’s what I want to do, too,” John said, lightly smiling and tapping at his cup. Alex’s smile crept back, and John swallowed. He didn’t know what it was about Alex: he certainly wasn’t conventionally attractive, John wouldn’t use ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ to describe him. But his body’s reaction to Alex’s current behaviors were stronger than they had been when he started allowing himself to be attracted to men.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by Alex adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie. “So, uh, what are you planning on doing with your major,” Alex asked, looking up into John’s eyes. It was John’s turn to look askance.

 

“Well, you see,” he began, “I don’t really want to be a PoliSci major. But I figured I’d stay since activism and political activities are very closely tied to each other.”

 

“Ah,” Alex said, intrigued. “If you weren’t in PoliSci, what would you be?”

 

“Probably Enviro, with a minor in race studies,” John replied. Alex smiled.

 

“Race studies, eh? What are your thoughts on the onset of islamophobia,” Alex asked. John crushed his solo cup reflexively, then gasped and looked at his cup, chuckling. Alex chuckled as well.

 

“Well, care to elaborate,” he said, waving to the broken cup in John’s hand, which was now leaking the remaining water onto the ground.

 

“Sure, but after I throw this cup away,” John replied, looking around for a recycling bin. He couldn’t see one, and groaned as he tossed the cup into a garbage can a few feet away. At least it was split, so that if a turtle head did get stuck in it the turtle wouldn’t die. He turned back to Alex, who was staring at him with a confused expression.

 

“What’s that about,” he asked, and John shook his head.

 

“I care entirely too much about whether or not litter kills wildlife,” John replied, looking down at the floor.

 

“That’s kinda cute,” Alex quickly said back, chuckling. John looked up, smiling slightly.

 

“You don’t think it’s ridiculous?”

 

“John, there are things much more ridiculous than caring about animals,” Alex replied, smiling. John’s smile grew a little, and Alex was suddenly pushed into him by a careless stranger. John was unprepared and fumbled to soften their collision, his hands ended up placed on Alex’s chest as he fell. Alex hesitantly chuckled and quickly got up, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets. John put his hands down.

 

“Sorry about that, I didn’t intend-”

 

“Not your fault,” Alex said, waving a hand in the air as he rolled his eyes upward. John couldn’t help but replay that face over and over again in his head. It wasn’t sexy or hot, but it was certainly amusing. He put that at the back of his mind, however, when Alex looked him directly in the eye.

 

“I would just like to rant about our current political atmosphere instead of frick-frack,” he said. John laughed out loud.

 

“Frick-frack? Did you really just say that,” John asked, smiling. “Because that’s pretty great.” Alex was smiling, laughing lightly as the corners of his eyes crinkled. John had another face to save to his catalog of faces, and he straightened up.

 

“But yes, about islamophobia,” John began, and within the span of a few minutes he had entered the most engaging conversation about politics and war propaganda that he had ever had with anyone at this school. They were discussing late into the night, ignoring the people leaving until Lafayette came up alongside Alex, holding her brother’s shoulder.

 

“Aaaaaaalexxzzzzzzz,” she drunkenly slurred. Her brother smirked, and locked eyes with John while Alex turned to Lafayette.

 

John and Thomas were cordial and struggling through understanding the non-hetero life together. Thomas was only recently coming to terms with his homophobia thanks to his sister’s coming out half a year earlier. John had befriended Thomas in their Introduction to Argumentation class they shared, and through that had been exposed to Lafayette, who was sporting a very sparkly sequined shirt.

 

“So, she’s set you up with a freshman,” Thomas asked John.

 

“Heh, like we’re not freshmen,” John replied, and Thomas tisked lightly.

 

“No, I mean, he’s still a minor and is in his first semester right now,” Thomas replied, and John’s eyes widened. He looked back at Alex bracing Lafayette’s shoulders while she pinched his cheeks.

 

“You’re so fucking adorable,” she squealed, her voice cracking. Alex side-eyed at John and Thomas, who went into action. Thomas pulled his sister off of Alex, and John cleared his throat. Lafayette looked up at him and smiled.

 

“Lookitdizzllittlefuckah,” she slurred, then turned to Thomas, “Do you SEEEEE-”

 

“Yes, Marie, I see him,” Thomas said dryly. He looked to John and Alex. “I better get her back to her dorm. I’ll be back to pick you up,” he directed at Alex, but Alex waved his hands.

 

“My building is only across the quad from here, I’ll be fine,” Alex replied. Thomas shook his head.

 

“Nah, it’s too late at night for you to be walking by yourself,” Thomas replied. “If you insist, at least make John walk with you.” He looked at John, who nodded in response, turning to Alex.

 

“Thomas is right,” John said, smiling. “And you still gotta explain how Bush’s statements about fighting radicals instead of Islam itself are flying over people’s heads.”

 

Alex smiled, and his hands started gesticulating. “Well,” he loudly started, and John and Thomas shared a look of “he gets hurt, my sister will kill him” before Thomas led Lafayette away. John turned back to Alex, who was explaining his thoughts. Soon, they were outside of Alex’s building, and John was leaning against the wall.

 

“And, it’s just not effective. Also, who knows if Bush is lying about the weapons or not,” John said, ending in a yawn. He checked his watch for the time. It was three in the morning.

 

“Oh shit,” he said, looking around. “You should probably be getting to sleep,” he said to Alex.

 

Alex shrugged. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Alex smiled, and John allowed his shoulders to sag in exhaustion. He looked down at the ground and forced himself to stand up and look at Alex again.

 

“Well, I better go back to my dorm,” he said. Alex nodded.

 

“But first, we should trade phone numbers, so that you can keep ranting to me,” Alex swiftly said. John smiled, and handed Alex his Razr phone. Alex smiled and took the phone while handing John his own phone. After numbers were transferred, they fistbumped.

 

“Alright, talk soon?”

 

“Yeah,” John said, smiling. He walked down the steps of Alex’s dorm as he heard the unlocking of the door as Alex walked in. A few seconds later, his phone was ringing. He pulled it out.

 

**_Angry Ham is calling_ **

 

John chuckled, remembering the name he had called Alex when they were discussing class arguments. He turned and opened up his phone and saw Alex leaning against a window in a hall area.

 

“I wasn’t expecting it to be this soon,” John said, smiling. Alex looked down at the ground in front of him, providing another image for John to ruminate on.

 

“Well, you’re tired, and I want to make sure you get to your dorm safely,” Alex said. “It is quite late.”

 

John laughed. “Alright, I’m okay with that.” He turned away from the dorm building and walked to his own, their conversation drifting away from intense politics to the ridiculousness of the time. They hung up long after John had crawled into his own bed, and as his alarm clock’s digital numbers shifted from three to four, he fell asleep, smiling.

  
He had made a friend that night. And even if it didn’t turn into more than a friendship, he was glad that he had Alex’s eyes in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...He ignored how his heart fluttered when Alex’s hand brushed past his while getting a napkin at lunch. He ignored the way Alex’s eyes widened as he was given rebuttals to his essay at the anti-Affirmative Action bake sale, and how they made John’s cheek blush. He ignored Alex’s smile biting into his breath, making it hitch.
> 
> He ignored it all, he had to. No son of his father’s was gay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added warning of slurs, because Henry is a homophobic ass. They are censored, though. This chapter took a bit longer to do since I was working on tryouts for a group at my school (didn't make it in, but eh), so sorry for the lateness.
> 
> Also, about Lafayette and Thomas: They are first-generation immigrants, their father is from Haiti and their mother is from France. They are both very comfortable with English, hence why I'm keeping the dialogue mostly English with bits of French smattered in.

**1/26/04**

 

John groaned as his alarm punished him for only getting three hours of sleep. He slammed his fist onto the snooze button and dozed off. The alarm woke him up five mintes later, and John sat up to turn it off. He looked over to the other side of the room, but was met with an empty bed.

 

He had been blessed with a “dingle”: his roommate from last semester, who he rarely saw, had apparently gotten into a freak car accident over break and was not returning to school. John felt bad for the guy, but was pleased that the school hadn’t yet decided to fill the vacancy in his room. He stood up and stretched out his arms, reaching for the sky. His phone buzzed again, and he cursed the snooze button--  _ Wait, did I turn it off? _

 

He picked up his phone.

 

**_Angry Ham is calling._ **

 

John cocked his eyebrow as he flipped open the phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

“John! Yo, you gotta get to the dining halls,” Alex rushed through the receiver. He sounded angry.

 

“But it doesn’t open until 7:30, Alex,” John responded, suppressing a yawn. He didn’t feel as tired as he thought he would, but that didn’t mean that he was any less disappointed at being awake.

 

“There’s some crazy stuff here, though,” Alex replied. “The Black Students Union-”

 

“Say no more, I’ll be there in ten,” John rushed, and hung up the phone. Launching himself towards his dresser, into jeans, followed by a sweater, and flinging his hoodie on with his backpack, he was stepping into his shoes not two minutes later, pocketing his phone, keys, and ID in one swift hand motion. Three minutes later, he was sprint-walking towards the dining hall near Alex’s building. He was tasting his mouth with his tongue,  _ Should have grabbed a stick of gum,  _ he thought. He fished in one of his backpack’s smaller pockets for the orange tic-tacs he knew would be there, and managed to pop a few in his mouth as he rounded a building corner.

 

He paused. The office for the Black Student Union was located on the floor above the main dining hall, and, surprisingly, there wasn’t that much out of place. John strode forward, finally spotting a small, shivering teen on the front steps, hunched over a notebook. John rushed up and crouched down, meeting the rising gaze of Alex as he slit to a stop.

 

“Hey dude,” John said, smiling. Alex briefly smiled, then lifted a piece of paper from the notebook.

 

“Fucking look at this,” Alex muttered. John took the paper.

 

**Bake Sale!**

**Drop by, grab some delicious cupcakes, and sign our petition to rebuke the recent Affirmative Action ruling!**

 

John sighed, letting go of the paper, which alex promptly caught before it fell to the ground. Alex stuffed it back under his piles of paper and went back to madly scribbling.

 

“That’s ridiculous,” John said, hesitantly. He was still acclimating to the highly liberal atmosphere of Columbia, since the fervor of 9/11 and the “War on Terror” turned the racist cespool that was South Carolina into a boiling kettle, shrieking at every small “injustice” against “white America”. John was still figuring out what to say when Alex interrupted his refleciton.

 

“I know, right? Just outright saying that they’re raising funds in order to try and undo Affirmative Action here,” Alex spat. “I mean, the system isn’t perfect, because no system ever will be, but it’s not like it’s totally screwed everything up.”

 

John’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Alex to say that there was anything flawed about Affirmative Action. Given last night’s conversation about the state of islamophobia following 9/11, John expected Alex to be more livid.

 

“What are your thoughts on the entire system,” John asked, curiosity piqued.

 

“Well, for starters, it relies on a selection system and tuition price that biases which students have access to our school,” Alex began, and John let out a chuckle. Alex cocked his eyebrow at John.

 

“When you said that there were flaws in the Affirmative Action system, I was shocked,” John responded. “But it’s because it’s limited in its radical reach by other institutions.” He followed up his thought with a grin, and Alex grinned as well.

 

“What, you think I was going to side with the non-confrontational middlemen like Burr-”, accompanied with a sneer of disgust, “-just to keep good graces with everyone,” Alex questioned, gritting his teeth. “It’s easier to ignore racists, but people who stay on the middle ground make me angry.”

 

John laughed hesitantly. He was still unsure how to feel about Affirmative Action, since returning to South Carolina for winter break made him unsure of his previously-unshakeable opinion that it was important and necessary in the current political climate. Alex caught his hesitation and frowned.

 

“Are you…” Alex slowly began, and John swallowed, his eyes widening. He didn’t want to fuck up this new friendship. He didn’t know why he didn’t want to fuck up this friendship so desperately, but it was imperative that he not fuck it up.

 

“I’m from South Carolina,” John said, and he gritted his teeth as Alex’s frown grew. “So my knowledge of how Affirmative Action works is… probably very wrong,” John concluded, internally grimacing. Alex nodded, his face relaxing, and John felt his shoulders relax.

 

“Ah, understandable,” Alex replied. “I can try and explain it over breakfast before Lafayette gets here for food, but I gotta write this response really quickly.”

 

“Alright,” John said, smiling at Alex. “Stay angry.”

 

Alex grinned and went back to furiously writing. John watched the tendons on Alex’s hands twitch, the breath angrily turning into fog over the paper. He glanced away, rubbing his hands together from the cold. A light from inside the dining hall turned on, and John looked at Alex, who didn’t pause in his writings.  _ Why did he bring me out here, in the cold, before the dining halls- _

 

“Wanna head in?” Alex brought John back from thought land, and John nodded, smiling.

 

“Yeah, I’m freezing.”

 

“Me too,” Alex muttered in response, grunting in response to suddenly standing up. John offered a steadying hand, which Alex took as he stumbled backwards on a slick step. Alex was still falling, and John reflexively reached out for his opposite arm. They caught each other, arms locking and Alex’s notebook fell to the ground between them as John stepped forward to brace himself for the impact of suddenly holding Alex’s weight.

 

There was a shared glance between them, and a sudden look away. John didn’t want to look at Alex for too long.

 

***

 

**10/3/01**

 

“And STAY OUT,” Henry screamed at the Mormon missionaries as they staggered away from the front steps of the Laurens estate. John came up behind his swaying father.

 

“Sir, please-” he began, but Henry swirled around, fists raised.

 

“I won’ leh dem feh-” Henry was cut off by a sudden gag. He stumbled to a nearby trashcan and vomited. John stayed a bit farther behind and glanced at the missionaries outside. One of them looked very young, and was visibly shaken by the sudden outburst from Henry Laurens. The older one looked back at John with a stern stare. John raised a shoulder and tried to give some sort of regretful look back at them. He mouthed  _ I’m sorry,  _ and the elders softened their gazes as John gently closed the door. He turned back to his father, who was now standing back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Henry wore a scowl.

 

“...Az I was sayin’, I won’ leh dem feh-gets teach their plan to yeh children,” Henry slurred, looking between John’s chest and the stairs nearby, where John’s younger siblings were gathered at the bottom, watching the exchange.

 

“They’re Mormon missionaries, I honestly don’t think they’re gay,” John calmly replied. Henry huffed.

 

“They’re even worse,” Henry muttered. He turned towards the kitchen, but stumbled up another set of stairs towards the bedrooms. “I’m goin’ ter behd.” John stood in place as he heard the heavy, stumbling footsteps retreat into the bedroom much too large for one man to inhabit by himself.  _ At least he’s sleeping now,  _ John thought to himself. He ran his hand through his cropped haircut as he walked over to the trashcan and took the bag out, tying it tightly.

 

Henry had entered a stage of drunken grief where he didn’t even remember what day it was, or a majority of what he had done the day before. There was a lot of vomit to clean up since it started five days ago, and John thanked whatever god there was out there that he had made it to a trash can this time.

 

As he retrieved a second bag from a roll right next to the trashcan to double-bag the vomit, his younger brother Henry gently came up behind him.

 

“Is Daddy going to be okay,” he timidly asked. John looked back at the younger Henry and gently smiled.

 

“In about a week, I think,” John responded. In reality, he didn’t know. But he knew that he had to maintain some semblance of responsibility. He was the one that his siblings turned to now.

 

He had to know.

 

***

 

John didn’t want to think about why the glance between him and Alex had brought the missionaries back into his mind, but he soon found himself standing in a line for pancakes, Alex jabbering about his argumentative essay.

 

“...And it’s a clear symptom of privilege! Demanding that a group be “grateful” for what they get instead of asking for more means that they are subconsciously buying into the racist agendas of the far right, which is only psychologically able to happen if they are in such a privileged spot to allow their minds the blissful ignorance of the fact that no one “deserves” anything,” Alex said in one seamless breath, and John nodded.

 

“I mean, you probably need some support for the psychology behind that,” John replied, sliding easily into the conversation. It was easy to go on autopilot around Alex during flashbacks. There always seemed to be so much that he had to say, and John was grateful for his tenacity. He grabbed a plate of pancakes and turned to look at Alex.

 

“...Which could be hard to get, since there will be selection bias based on who is conducting the study and what kind of results they end up with,” John concluded.

 

“But the evidence is irrefutable,” Alex exclaimed, picking up his own plate and walking over to a nearby circular table.

 

“Is it, though?”

 

“It’s obvious,” Alex sputtered, pulling a chair out and plopping down. He set his plate and notebook down-- John didn’t remember him picking up, but it had obviously happened-- and grabbed a napkin from the center of the table.

 

“Well, you would need to make it more obvious,” John stated simply. “No one will necessarily believe you just because you argue it with long words and run-on sentences.”

 

Alex huffed, but whether it was directed at John’s statement of reality or to get a few stray strands of his black hair out of his face John couldn’t tell. Alex dived into his pancakes, and John smiled.

 

“But if you change the way you try and support your argument, you could create a sound essay that could be hard to refute,” John said with a smile. Alex looked up at John mid-pancake consumption, and Alex grinned.

 

“Would you like to help,” Alex asked, and John stuttered.

 

“Uh, well-- I don’t really--”

 

“You have a good glance into other opinions in a way that doesn’t utterly piss me off,” Alex said, “And as much as I pride myself on being unbiased--”

 

“You, unbiased,  _ mon petit lion _ ?  _ Au contrare _ ,” an approaching Lafayette replied. John glanced at her and smiled. She was dressed in a modestly colored sweater that clung to her upper body and accentuated her slim arms, and her jeans hugged her hips and tucked into black boots. Her hair was large and poofy, restrained only by a small bandana that circled behind her ears.  She sat down between Alex and John at the table, placing a yogurt parfait and bagel in front of her.

 

“Well, you see,  _ mademoiselle _ , I still struggle with it greatly,” Alex said, running a hand through his hair. “So that’s why I’m asking your dear Laurens--”

 

“Wait, how do you know my last name,” John interrupted, staring between Lafayette and Alex. Lafayette grinned as she plunged a spoon into her parfait.

 

“Well, you see, I was telling Alex about you, and I used your full name in case he had met you in a previous class. Obviously, I sense that you both would have been friends before I had introduced you two to each other if that were the case,” she replied, sticking the spoon into her mouth. John looked back at Alex, who shrugged.

 

“As I was saying,” he continued, “I was going to ask you to help me construct an essay to these neo-racists.”

 

Lafayette huffed. “Already getting onto that bake sale,  _ mon cherie _ . I expected nothing less.”

 

Alex grinned, looking at her and taking a free hand. “Anything to bring justice,” he responded, gently kissing the back of her fingers. Lafayette giggled, and John rolled his eyes and dived into his own pancakes. Alex was clearly trying to gain Lafayette’s affections, and somehow had already wormed his way into Lafayette’s life as a crucial figure. And so John sat, watching their flirtations. Suddenly, he remembered two facts about the previous night: Lafayette was DRUNK not six hours ago, and Alex was a minor, if Thomas was to be trusted. His face grew serious, which both Lafayette and Alex picked up on. They turned to stare at him, and John swallowed, his hands sweating more at the second thought than the first one. but he figured the first question would cause less ripples.

 

“Wait, how are you awake?” John asked, examining Lafayette’s face. She didn’t seem to be hiding any pain or fatigue, even though she had probably only gotten five hours of sleep the night before.

 

“Ibuprofen mostly,” she responded, “along with Thomas making sure I ate and drank water between shots last night.”

 

Alex huffed. “I still can’t believe you two are siblings,” he muttered, and John chuckled.

 

“ _ Mon amie _ , we are identical,” Lafayette dryly replied.

 

“And yet you are polar opposites,” Alex quickly followed, waving his hands in the air. “It’s like you were raised in different worlds.”

 

“We were,” Lafayette softly said, looking down at their food. Alex looked like he was about to say something, but John cleared his throat, causing Alex to look at him.  _ Not right now,  _ John mouthed to him, and Alex’s gaze flitted back to Lafayette, who was still looking down at her food. But she soon perked up, smiling, as if nothing had happened.

 

“But that’s an aside. Thomas is a gift, even if sometimes he’s a little shit,” she said, smiling devilishly at the end. John chuckled, and Alex shook his head as he returned to his food.

 

“I’d consider that an understatement,” Alex muttered, and Lafayette smacked his arm. Alex retaliated by shoving Lafayette playfully, and John watched their friendly bickering quickly evolve into flinging bits of pancake at each other. He laughed with them, eating his food. He glanced down at his watch, and felt a rock drop in his stomach. There was only ten minutes to his Practices in Argumentation class, which was across the campus. He stood up, glancing at Lafayette.

 

“We’ve only got ten minutes until class starts,” John muttered, and Lafayette also stood up.

 

“Oh shit,” she breathed out. “And Franklin’s not going to let us off easy if we’re late again.” She turned to Alex and smiled.

 

“Lunch, perhaps,  _ mon lion _ ?”

 

“Of course,  _ mon papillon _ ,” Alex replied, smiling. He looked at John, who waved back sheepishly.

 

“See you at lunch, then,” John said, and he couldn’t help but smile when Alex’s grin got a little larger.

 

“See you then, John,” Alex said, getting back to his food. John and Lafayette began their brisk walk to their class in the bitter cold. Lafayette’s long legs and tireless gait kept John’s heart rate elevated. Even with his experience with the boxing club, he couldn’t perfectly keep up with the French-American’s boundless energy. They approached the large lecture hall where their class was located, and John cleared his throat.

 

“So, Thomas told me that Alex was a minor,” John said between short breaths, “And yet you’re flirting with him incessantly.”

 

“Thomas is only an age policier because I won’t let him fraternize with a girl back home,” Lafayette said. “And he’s wrong about Alex being younger than 18, although only just barely.”

 

“Ah,” was the only thing John could get out of his mouth before they entered the lecture hall, where Professor Franklin, a balding, tottering caricature of wealth and scholarly pursuits, was gathering his papers onto the lectern at the front of the hall. They had made it just in time, although not soon enough to grab good seats. John directed Lafayette to a duo of free seats near the back entrance and sat down, as Franklin cleared his throat.

 

“Now, how was everyone’s weekends,” he called out, and a hand shot out in the front of the classroom. John knew that he could zone out for half of the lecture, since Franklin usually opened the class with a pointless question that he used to propel the class into arguments. And so, he let himself think about the flashback.

 

***

 

**10/28/01**

 

It was this day that John wasn’t home when Henry vomited on the floor before passing out. John did come back home after his wrestling match, only to step directly into it. He cursed, and carefully tossed his backpack to the side as he carefully danced out of his shoes in order to go get the cleaning supplies. When he came back, his father was down the stairs, staring at the shoes.

 

“Hey dad,” John carefully said. Henry swiveled back to John.  _ Wrong word _ , he thought, before he was quickly pushed to the ground, next to the vomit.

 

“I’m your father,” Henry cursed from above him, his face scrunched up in pain. John figured that his father was hung over instead of inebriated, given how rigidly he was standing, and how little he tried to move. Henry pointed to the vomit puddle. “Clean that up.”

 

“Yes, father,” John said. He was suddenly pulled up roughly.

 

“Say it again,” Henry demanded, gripping the back of John’s shirt.

 

“Yes, father,” John repeated, a little louder that time.

 

“Better,” Henry muttered, letting go of John’s shirt. John quickly got to work scrubbing the vomit out as Henry walked to the kitchen. John sighed as he heard the familiar creak of the liquor cabinet opening, the solid clinking of his father’s favorite liquor glass on the table, the quiet pour of the gin echoing through the house. His siblings rarely traveled into this part of the house anymore, choosing to stay in the basement and in the smaller apartment house during the day.

 

Twenty minutes later, the entryway was being fumigated by the deep vacuum John was using. His shoes were outside, awaiting the inevitable hose-down followed by a trip to the washing machine. Henry took this moment to startle his son with a loud swear word. John turned off the vacuum and turned toward his father, who was leaning against a wall ten feet away, holding a rolled up newspaper.

 

“Is there something wrong,” John calmly asked. Henry growled.

 

“Apparently there’s an AIDS awareness meeting in City Hall today,” Henry started, and John braced himself for the oncoming slurs. “The f*gs are meeting to talk about how the Red Cross’ ban on gay blood is unreasonable. As if!”

 

“Why wouldn’t it be unreasonable?” John had been learning about blood and blood transfusions in his human anatomy class, which was taught by a very liberal black woman, Ms. Tubman. And it was her political views that propelled John into doing his own research on the AIDS crisis of the 80’s, after she had asserted that the ban was, indeed ridiculous, since the blood was sorted according to the protein configurations and could detect the presence of HIV as well. John had become an amateur expert on the topic over the past two weeks in order to distract himself from his own father.

 

But to Henry, the mere questioning of the ban triggered an angry growl, and John realized a little too late that he shouldn’t have said anything.

 

“Because the gays want to kill us all,” Henry snapped, “And if you can’t see that then you’re either stupid or part of their plan. And no child of mine is that stupid.” John felt himself being grabbed and pushed against a wall. Henry was looking at him with murder in his eyes, trying to search John for some shred of what he was thinking.

 

John began to open his mouth to respond, but then closed it. Henry’s eyebrows climbed his forehead.

 

“Huh? What were you going to say?” His voice was filled with anger, and John just wanted to escape his father’s grip and alcohol-tainted breath.

 

“Nothing,” John quickly muttered, holding his breath. His father let him go, still staring angrily into John’s eyes.

 

“Damn right you were going to say nothing,” Henry breathed. “No son of mine will be a f***ot.” He threw the newspaper down and stormed back into the kitchen, and John let out his breath.

 

***

 

John didn’t know why these thoughts kept flooding his senses. They frequently came when he was starting to catch feelings for anyone. And he didn’t want them anymore.

 

So he ignored how his heart fluttered when Alex’s hand brushed past his while getting a napkin at lunch. He ignored the way Alex’s eyes widened as he was given rebuttals to his essay at the anti-Affirmative Action bake sale, and how they made John’s cheek blush. He ignored Alex’s smile biting into his breath, making it hitch.

  
He ignored it all, he had to. No son of his father’s was gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love some beta-readers for this story, especially people who are more in-tune with racial tensions and post-9/11 events. I was but a little kid interested in spiders at the time, so I didn't pay attention to politics much.
> 
> You can find me at @rambleton or @laramidianphantoms on tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John continues to stifle his growing feelings for Alex, even amidst careful teasing by Lafayette and Hercules and Alex's good intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE ABOUT HERCULES:  
> Throughout the progression of this storyline, Hercules is going to come out as a transmasculine individual. But right now, she identifies as a woman. And, yes, I'll probably write a side story involving the progression from her butch femininity to his strong-willed prowess thanks to Lafayette.
> 
> So sorry for the late arrival of this chapter, I'm getting back into my school schedule as best I can. This is also probably very sloppy since I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible and at least keep up with one of my three Hamilton-related projects (the other being Yes, They Told His Story and my Federalist Youtubes channel). So marvel in the unedited shittiness that is this chapter.

**2/13/04**

 

Over the past few weeks, John had mostly succeeded in pushing down his feelings. He had begun to become overly absorbed in his scientific policy class, reading a particularly interesting set of articles on conservation in Yellowstone when he heard Lafayette’s shrill laughter from across the campus coffee shop. He looked up and saw Lafayette and Hercules in line at the front of the shop, wearing very similar A-line dresses. Lafayette looked in John’s direction and smiled, and Hercules waved towards him, smiling as she readjusted her headband keeping her afro out of her eyes.

 

John hadn’t interacted with Hercules that much. Not because they weren’t friends, but because rugby season had only just ended as last semester came to a close. She was secured to Lafayette’s hip otherwise, frequently sporting athletic hoodies over dark skirts. As much as Lafayette was able to hold her own ground when it came to people harassing her, the upperclassman had taken it upon herself to make sure that no one dare lay a hand on the freshman. And for that, John was eternally grateful to Hercules.

 

Soon enough, they were approaching: Lafayette holding a smoothie adorned with fruit, Hercules with a simple cup of coffee. John smiled and took his feet off of the chair on the other side of the small circular table his binders of political theory were resting on. Both women took seats opposite of John, who leaned forward and smiled.

 

“ _ Mon cher, _ it is Friday,” Lafayette said, looking down at the binders and smirking. “Aren’t there better uses of your time than reading about boring political matters?” She took a sip of her smoothie.

 

“Not really,” John honestly replied. Especially since arguing with Alex about how to best go about discussing racism on campus couldn’t be done while he was in his anatomy class. So John sat in the coffee lounge, patiently awaiting Alex’s eventual return while listening to the new Scissor Sisters album on his iPod. He didn’t dare tell Alex that he listened to white gay colonialist pop music, of course. It was his own secret guilty pleasure.

 

Lafayette rolled her eyes. Mulligan chuckled.

 

“It’s because Alex isn’t here, is it?” she asked, grinning as John blankly stared at her.

 

“No, it’s because I do eventually have to write a paper on this shit,’ he said, putting down his article, “And I need to be able to comprehend what I’m bullshitting since I should be a science major.”

 

“I bet Alex would just write it for you,” Hercules quickly mumbled before sipping her coffee. Lafayette chuckled as John leaned back in frustration.

 

“I don’t want to force this on him,” John said. “This is conservation policy, which is great for arguing if you know what you’re talking about. And while Alex knows a lot, I bet he doesn’t know much about wolf populations and trophic levels.”

 

“Excuse me,” Alex’s voice said from a few feet away. John startled forward and looked to his side, where Alex was walking over. He was wearing a dark red shirt under his usual black coat that seemed to soften Alex’s features and bring out his eyes.  _ Don’t think- _

 

“Who said I don’t know shit about ecology,” Alex asked, bringing John out of his thoughts. John saw Lafayette aim a finger up at him, and Hercules chuckled.

 

“Uh,” John said, “I just figured-”

 

“I am also pre-med, you know,” Alex said, taking the seat to John’s left.

 

“Pre-med doesn’t mean shit,” John responded. “Do you know how many medical doctors there are out there that don’t understand ecology?”

 

“No, but I, however, am not a medical doctor, and still have time to learn,” Alex said. “The better question here is this: how are you lovely ladies doing?” He batted his eyelashes jokingly at Hercules and Lafayette, who both started laughing at Alex, who was now resting his interlocked fingers on top of his knuckles.

 

“I’m doing well,” Lafayette replied before breaking into giggles again. Hercules nodded in agreement, and Alex reached out and took her hand that was wrapped around her coffee cup.

 

“And, forgive me, I’m not sure I’m aware of your name,” Alex said, smiling. John felt a slight tightening in his chest at how easily Alex was flirting with Hercules. He wanted it to stop.

 

“Hariett Mulligan, but most people call me Hercules,” she replied.

 

“Hercules,” Alex quizzically responded, eyebrows raising in wonder. John smiled and rested his hand on top of Hercules’ other hand that rested on the table. He figured that two could play at this game, and he knew that Hercules was great at improvised over-the-top declarations of love from the improv club’s general interest meeting earlier in the semester.

 

“Yes, my hero, returned from the war that is women’s rugby,” John said, letting a playful airiness rise in his mouth. Hercules smiled and let go of Alex’s hand, resting her own on her chest.

 

“My prince, you know I would keep my promise to return to you,” she jested back. Lafayette was laughing as they leaned into each other, their faces overexaggerating their ‘love’ for each other. Alex was chuckling behind a closed fist and looking at John, which he ignored by kissing Hercules’ hand.

 

“My heart is filled with joy at your return,” he jested, and Hercules blushed. “Now, a toast!” He stood up, bringing Hercules with him, who was now laughing. He looked towards Lafayette, who was keeled over her smoothie from laughing so hard. He looked around and, after realizing that Hercules was already holding her coffee, slid lafayette’s smoothing from under her curls and raised it up.

 

“A toast to the mighty warrior, Hercules Mulligan!” John smiled, tapped the smoothie to Hercules’ cup, and then attempted to chug the smoothie.

 

“Hey,” Lafayette choked out, her face slightly flushed from laughing hard as she stood up to take the smoothie from John. She knocked the smoothie cup and it fell directly on top of the article John had been reading. John jumped away, narrowly missing the drop that fell off the table and onto the floor where his shoes were.

 

“Shit,” Lafayette wheezed, and Hercules let go of John’s hand as she began laughing. John ran to get some napkins, and also to prevent himself from yelling at Lafayette. When he came back, Alex was pulling as many papers away from the spill as he could, putting them in his lap. John rushed forward, swiping up the mess. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the only affected papers were the article and the syllabus for the class. He looked at Alex, whose eyes reflected concern. John broke into a grin and started laughing, which was soon followed by Alex’s about face breaking into laughter as well. Alex looked down at the wad of napkins in John’s hand.

 

“Would you like some help with the spill,” he asked.

 

“Yes, please,” John sighed, handing Alex half of the pile. John bent down and began cleaning up the splatters on the floor when he felt dripping on the top of his head.  _ Fuck _ , he thought,  _ should have cleaned that up first _ . He looked up and saw that Alex was already swiping it away.

 

“I saw it drip onto your hair and I figured I should grab that first,” Alex muttered. “Do you want me to get it out of your hair?”

 

John nibbled the inside of his lip, and nodded. “Sure,” he said, and Alex came forward and wiped the drip off of the top of John’s head. He was glad he had pulled his hair into a ponytail that day, otherwise the process of getting smoothie out of his head would involve more touching. Which, in an ideal world where he could potentially date Alex--

 

_ No. We are not thinking about that _ , John thought quickly as Alex cleared his throat.

 

“You’re good,” Alex said, and John looked up at him and smiled politely.

 

“Thanks, dude,” John said, glancing at the way that Alex’s hair was also pulled into a small ponytail. And then Alex’s large eyes, which seemed to add a fourth dimension to the slight smile on his light pink lips--

 

_ Stop. _

 

John looked down as he collected the sodden napkins from the floor and stood up, looking at Alex as he finished wiping down the tabletop. Lafayette and Hercules were still laughing, although John could see that Lafayette’s laughter was more gentle and cunning than a smoothie spill would usually warrant. It was her wink in his direction that made him realize that she had seen their interaction, and John rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ll throw these away,” Alex said, reaching out for the clump of soiled napkins that John was holding. John nodded and gave them to Alex, who walked over to the trash can about ten feet away.

 

“I saw that,” Lafayette muttered, “Stop denying-”

 

“There’s nothing to deny,” John muttered back as Alex made his way back. He looked at Hercules, who was smiling.

 

“That was hilarious,” she said, smiling. “Do you do improv?”

 

“No, but maybe I should,” John mused. Hercules turned her attention to Alex, who was back at the table and taking John’s papers from his seat to the dry section of the table.

 

“So, women’s rugby?” he asked, smiling lightly.

 

“Yeah,” Hercules replied. “You probably won’t see much of me this next semester either. I’m in charge of costume design for this semester’s play.”

 

“Ah! Do you do that for fun?”

 

“It’s actually my major,” Hercules replied, smiling. “Fashion and theatre combined.”

 

“Niiiiice,” Alex quipped, and John’s heart skipped a beat.  _ No voice should ever sound that nice _ , he thought.

 

“So I’m guessing that we probably won’t get to improv like this again,” John asked, focusing on Hercules.

 

“Well, if you came to improv club…” she replied, smiling. “You’re quite good.”

 

“Why thank you,” John replied, bowing slightly.

 

“Alright, enough with the flirting,” Lafayette interrupted, smiling miscievously, “I thought you had some papers to read.”

 

“Well now I gotta print a new copy of this article,” John dryly stated, staring at Lafayette. “But you’re right, it’s the weekend. I have other things I can do.”

 

“Yesssssss,” Lafayette hissed, turning to Hercules and sharing a high-five. “It’s date night, then!”

 

“Wait, what,” Alex and John said almost simultaneously.

 

“I’m hosting another party tonight,” Hercules said, “And a date is required to get in.”

 

“Psh, then obviously I’m going with you,” John quipped, grinning at Hercules. She grinned even wider.

 

“Nope, I’m going with this one,” she said, locking her arm theatrically with Lafayette. John shook his head.

 

“So who am I supposed to go with, then?”

 

Lafayette and Hercules looked at each other and smiled, then back to John. Lafayette then slid her eyes over towards Alex. John looked over at him, and immediately put his hands up.

 

“Whoa,” he said. But when he saw that Alex’s face started to fall-- _ from a smile, oh God _ \--John quickly smiled back. “Only if Alex is okay with it.”

 

Alex’s smile came back slightly. “I’m chill with it,” he replied, and John looked at Lafayette, who was nodding and grinning slightly.

 

“Excellent,” she said, smiling. “So, we’ll see you boys there?”

 

“Naturally,” Alex replied, and John nodded as well, swallowing shallowly.

 

“Alright then,  _ au revoir _ !” Lafayette and Hercules began to walk away very quickly. John turned to Alex who was lightly kicking at the ground.

 

“Welp, I wasn’t planning on going to a party tonight,” John said.

 

“Same, actually,” Alex said. “I don’t have an actual Valentine so I figured holing up in my dorm would work best.”

 

“Wait, shit, is it--” John was beginning to panic.

 

“Yeah… it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.”

 

_ Fuck. _

 

***

 

**2/14/02**

 

“You bringin’ home h’ girl t’nigh?” Henry was drunk, again, and John was trying hard to ignore the smell of vodka that was now wisping into his room.

 

“Dad, I told you, I have a test tomorrow and I need to--”

 

“John, it’s Valentine’s Day.” John turned towards his father, who seemed to be doing his best to hold a serious face and voice. “You’re old enough for a girlfriend.”

 

“Maybe I don’t like anyone,” John said lightly.  _ Not anyone you would approve of _ .

 

Henry guffawed, bending over. “Bullshi’,” he replied, “yeh teens barely keep it in yeh pants. Wazz’r name?”

 

John bit his lip. “Martha.” John continued to bite his lip.

 

“Ah, she a gor’gess one,” Henry said. “Why don’ you ahsk her aht?”

 

“She already has a boyfriend,” John muttered, looking down at the floor. It was true. His best friend at the time, Martha Manning, was dating someone on the football team, also named John. John Andre. Who had kissed him earlier that day.

 

“Shame,” Henry muttered. “Well, can’ be helped. Good luck stud’in,” Henry said, sauntering away. John sighed in relief. It seemed that Henry always did better when he fell on his emergency vodka.

 

***

 

John had initially planned on making the trek to the library by himself to print out the article again, but Alex decided to tag along, discussing the intricacies of the hand tendons he had dissected no more than 30 minutes before.

 

“And there’s a whole set of ligaments underneath that second layer of tendons! Like, people always talk about the complexity of eyes, which are indeed complicated, but in terms of biomechanical organs, the hand is honestly one of the most complex,” he rambled, looking at his own hands as he wiggled his fingers. John smiled a little at Alex’s awestruck wonder. He took a mental snapshot of the way his eyes were lit up right now, how wide they were. The slight open smile that took over Alex’s face, creating wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He memorized the way that Alex breathed chuckles between long strings of explaining the way the nailbed was constructed. But he had to look away in order to log in and print out his article.

 

John leaned over the desktop and typed in his credentials and quickly opened up Internet Explorer.  _ Thank God for fast computers _ , he thought. He was glad he didn’t have to look at Alex’s continued delight. John didn’t know if he could make it through the day without his heart just stopping at the delight and wonder that was his friend.

 

Meanwhile, Alex was tracing the veins on the back of his own hand. He cleared his throat, and once John sent the commands to print the article, he looked at Alex with a slight smile.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Okay John, you gotta look at this,” Alex replied, placing his hand down next to John’s on the desk. John’s heart caught up in his throat because of how close the hands were.

 

“So, you see this crevice down here,” Alex continued, suddenly flexing back his thumb, and using his other hand to point to a small triangle-shaped indent near his wrist. John nodded, exhaling slowly. “This is called the anatomical snuffbox, because people use it to sniff up powdered tobacco. And when you fall out and land on your hands really hard, this is where the most force is applied.”

 

“So when you break your wrist,” John stated, “the bones there are what break.”

 

“Yep!” Alex grinned and looked up at John. “The schaphoid, trapezium, and the radial process.”

 

John heard the printer next to them start up, and he looked toward it. Alex followed his gaze.

 

“So, now that I’ve told you all my interesting facts, what are you reading about,” Alex asked.

 

“I’m reading an article on how the wolf and elk populations in Yellowstone affect the growth of trees in the area,” John stated calmly. “Since they started bringing wolves back to the park, there’s been an increase in the presence of young trees, which is good for forest maintenance.”

 

“Ah,” Alex said as John collected the papers from the top of the printer. “So, conservation?”

 

“Essentially, yes,” John said, looking down at his feet. “It’s honestly kinda boring for people who aren’t into it.”

 

“What makes you say that,” Alex asked. John shrugged and strode over to a nearby empty table. He did his best to ignore Alex’s huff in response to the shrug. He really didn’t want to talk emotions with the boy his affections seems to be clinging to. Alex followed, pulling up a nearby chair and sitting down as John sat down, resting his backpack against the leg of his chair. He set the article on the table and bent down to pick out a highlighter from the front pocket.

 

“I’ve got some work to do,” John said dryly, and Alex pulled out a notepad from his backpack as well as a Shakespeare book.

 

“Good thing I do as well,” Alex said, smiling. John looked up at him and smirked back, then turned back to the article and began highlighting the hypothesis in the paper’s abstract. He was grateful for Alex’s presence, even though it was becoming harder to focus around him. Every few minutes or so, he would glance in Alex’s direction. The way that Alex’s head tilted while he was writing really showed the smooth, yet defining features of his face, and John was mesmerized by Alex’s concentration face. In his opinion, Alex looked the best when he was concentrating.

 

Suddenly, Alex glanced in his direction, and John quickly went back to the paper, reading over an already highlighted section. He began to swing his highlighter around in his fingers, to give off the impression that he hadn’t been looking Alex. Alex chuckled lightly, and John looked up at him. Alex was looking at him, and  _ Oh my God how does he look so adorable _ ran through John’s mind.

 

“You always look happy when you’re reading over things for your Enviro Policy class,” Alex stated.

 

“Well, it is my favorite class,” John replied. He impatiently tapped his highlighter against the table, which made Alex shift his gaze over to it for a split second.

 

“Why do you continue in PoliSci, then?”

 

“What do you mean,” John responded, setting the highlighter down.

 

“Well,” Alex said, shifting his body so that he was facing John,  _ How does he look so relaxed? _ John thought, before Alex’s voice stole his attention again.

 

“It just seems obvious to me that your passion lies in conservation and zoology, not in poring over politics and lawsuits.”

 

“Obvious how,” John asked.

 

“Even though you talk a lot about politics with me, you always…” Alex was waving around with his hands, as if trying to find the right word. John smiled, it was rare that Alex was searching for words, and maybe--

 

_ Stop, it’s Friday, he’s probably just frazzled. _

 

“...You always seem brighter, almost,” Alex finally said. “And, as your friend, I am all about making sure that you feel as happy as you can be, and so I find it somewhat logical to pursue conservation and environmental studies instead of politics and lobbying studies.” Alex leaned back.

 

John shook his head. “If I do that, my father will get upset,” he replied.

 

“Well, fuck your dad,” Alex said. John furrowed his brows.

 

“No thanks, he’s straighter than a steel rod,” John snarked back, grinning a little.

 

“Eh, those can bend with enough force. But in all seriousness, you owe nothing to him,” Alex said. John looked away and sighed.

 

“But I do, Alex,” he said. “I owe him the benefit of having a good child.”

 

“Don’t you have other siblings,” Alex retorted back. “Surely they can--”

 

“No, they can’t fill the shoes my dad made for me,” John gently snapped, staring back at Alex. “I am my father’s son, and as long as I am his son I have to fill them.” He turned back to his paper. “Besides, I can use my degree to help pass laws to protect the environment.”

 

There was a short silence as John did his best to seem like he was getting back to work. He was really mulling over why he continued to stay true to his father’s will. And the reasons hit like emotional bricks. But before he could let himself think about them further, Alex gently interrupted.

 

“I’m sorry,” he almost whispered. “I realize that I don’t really understand the whole family thing.”

 

This made John turn from his work to look at Alex, who was looking down at his notepad, arms folded on the desk. He looked somber, his brow furrowed in reflection.

 

“What do you mean,” John asked.

 

“I… nevermind,” Alex said, shaking his head and picking his pen back up.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Well, no,” Alex said, leaning back. “But you probably don’t even want--”

 

“Alex,” John interrupted. “I’m your friend. If you need to talk about something, just say it.”

 

Alex looked at him warily, then sighed.

 

“The short of it is that I’ve been an orphan since I was 12 and was in the New York foster system up until recently,” Alex said in one continuous breath. “The only expectations for me were to not get arrested. Dying didn’t matter so much to them, as proven by a cruise my foster family put me on a year ago that got caught in a tropical storm--”

 

“Whoa, hold on,” John interrupted. “So, you don’t really have…”

 

“A family,” Alex completed the sentence with finality. “I mean, my dad left when I was 10, and my mom got sick and died when I was 12. My cousin that I lived with died, which finally placed me in foster care when I was 13.”

 

“Damn,” was the only thing that John could muster. Alex seemed to be looking off into the distance, or maybe at a crumb on the table that John couldn’t seem to find.

 

“But anyways,” Alex said, “With that considered, I realize that it’s probably much more complicated than just making your own way if you’ve got a family you’re connected to.” He looked at John, who looked away briefly.

 

“Yeah,” John said. “It’s definitely much more complicated.” They both sat there, staring past each other, before Alex turned back to his work.

 

“If you ever do want to talk about conservation to cheer you up, I’m down,” Alex said. John looked at him as Alex glanced back. His chest constricted.

 

“...Do you mean that?”

 

“Of course,” Alex responded, smiling. “You’re my friend. And your happiness means a lot to me.”

 

John sat there, dumbfounded.

 

***

 

**5/14/95**

 

John ran outside to the garden, where his mother Ellie was weeding nearby the shrubs. He sniffled, holding his arm where his father had grabbed him a little too harshly a few moments ago. His mother turned around, putting down her small shovel.

 

“Jack? What’s wrong, sweetie,” she asked, voice filling with concern.

 

“Dad yelled at me for bringing a snail I found on my way home into the house,” John stated. “He squished it on the porch.”

 

“Oh Jacky,” she said, pulling him into a gentle hug. “I’ll talk to him tonight, okay?” John nodded into her shoulder, and she patted her back. He pulled back and looked at her freckled face.

 

“In the meantime, do you want to help me weed the shrubs? I’m almost done,” she asked, and John nodded, sniffling again. He got down on his needs and pulled at a few of the smaller weeds while she went back to work with her shovel. Fifteen minutes later, the weeds were abandoned and the mother-son duo were a few feet away, observing a crab spider on a flower.

 

“...So we like spiders because they help keep the insects in check?”

 

“That’s right,” Ellie replied. “Too many insects will eventually lead to too many flowers being eaten by caterpillars and larva.”

 

“Huh,” John said. He looked at his mother and smiled. “What about snails?”   
  


“Well, having a few snails can help, but snails also eat a lot of plants,” she explained. “So sometimes they’re not good to have around.”

 

“But can I keep some and feed them?”

 

“I’ll need to check with your father,” she replied, sighing. “But I do have a book on bugs in the house library, if you’re interested in them.” She smiled warmly, and John smiled back.

 

“Can I read it? I promise I’ll be careful with the book,” John added on, grimacing slightly. He remembered what happened when he accidentally tore a small part of a page in his father’s book about--

 

“Of course,” Ellie replied. “And I’ve read it many times, you can keep it.”

 

John hugged his mother. “Thank you, mom.”

 

“Anything for you, Jacky,” she replied. “Your happiness means a lot to me.”

 

***

 

After a short silence, John nodded.

 

“Okay,” he said weakly.

 

“And besides,” Alex said, “I want to know more about conservation so that I’m not like those medical doctors you complained about earlier.” He smirked, and John chuckled lightly.

 

“Yeah, I don’t want you to be like them either.” John smiled, and Alex nodded.

 

“Well, we better get back to work,” Alex said, turning back to his notepad. John turned back to his article, and was able to focus. He felt calm, reassured somehow. Alex was too good for him.

 

And he knew that good things couldn’t last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at @rambleton and @laramidianphantoms!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentines day fluff, both in flashback and realtime form. Still going to be relatively slow-burn, but at least now there will be some light kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that Hercules is not out yet. Also, I made Baron von Steuben into possibly my favorite character in the entire universe. :D
> 
> Also, sorry for not updating for a while. I had midterms last week and writer's block the week before.

**2/14/02**

 

John looked at his reflection in the mirror. He nervously tucked the growing mass of hair behind his ears, since his hair wasn’t long enough to tie back yet. He took a deep breath. _I’m not trying to impress, I’m just trying to look nice_. At least, that’s what he’d tell his father, if he asked.

 

John managed to slink out of the house at the crack of dawn without being flagged down by his father. And as John walked towards his car, he cursed not grabbing a jacket. Winter in the South was milder than the rest of the country, but the night was only just being carried away by the sunrise. Within ten minutes, the sun was peeking over the horizon, and John parked his car in the back parking lot near the sports fields. The 40 degree air made John shiver as he walked past the football field. He watched a particularly nasty tackling exercise, and as Coach Steuben’s German shrieks rang through the air he caught eye contact with one of the running backs. He swallowed.

 

The sleek, running body was braced in the shoulder pads and a helmet. The large, straight-tooth grin that shone from behind the mouthguard made John’s heart sink deeper into his chest. There was no way he could think straight when he made eye contact with John Andre’s gentle gaze John nodded gently, and Andre replied with a gentle hand wave as John walked past the field a little faster. He made it safely inside the building just outside of the indoor gym before he leaned against the wall and allowed himself the infatuated sigh that had threatened to escape his mouth when he looked at Andre.

 

He opened his eyes to Martha Manning, dressed in a simple yet elegant red dress.

 

“Hi there, Freckles,” she said, grinning. “Someone got your heartstrings?”

 

John stood up, straightening his back and smoothing over his shirt. “Heh, nah.”

 

“Oh really,” she replied, cocking an eyebrow. “That sigh didn’t sound lovesick at all.” She grinned as John rolled his eyes.

 

“You know that I don’t like anyone, Martha,” John lazily replied, walking down the hall past the gym. Martha followed, her strawberry blonde hair tied back into an elegant braid.

 

“I know, but it’s still fun to tease you,” she replied. “Tomorrow I’m throwing a movie night, and you’re invited.”

 

“Martha…” he said, shaking his head as he entered the large cafeteria to cross it.

 

“There’s this really cute girl from my English class that--”

 

“Martha,” he said sternly, turning towards her in the middle of the cafeteria. “I appreciate your efforts, but remember the last time you tried to hook me up with one of your classmates?”

 

“Laura? Yeah, you guys went on a date and she fell in love with you,” she chipperly replied, smiling. Then her face turned stern. “And then you dumped her the week after Winters because you couldn’t stand her obsession with NSYNC.”

 

“Not NSYNC, the one guy in it,” John said, continuing across the cafeteria to a staircase leading up to the junior lockers.

 

“Lance Bass?’

 

“Yeah, him,” John replied, scrunching his face up.

 

“What’s so bad about him,” Martha asked, leaning against the nearby lockers. John let out a sigh and looked up at Martha. He could tell her how many times Laura had fetishized Lance Bass potentially being gay in private while actively calling gay people disgusting at school. He could out himself, right here and now in the relatively empty hallway to his best friend. But he wasn’t going to.

 

“Nothing,” he replied, “it was just annoying is all.” It wasn’t all, but it was all he wanted to discuss with Martha. She shrugged and stood up straight as John opened his locker.

 

“Well, you should at least consider it,” she said, offering her arm to hold John’s backpack while he slid off his jacket to hang up. “It’ll be fun, regardless of whether or not you decide to date anyone there.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” John said after a long pause as he grabbed his backpack. He crouched down and found a textbook from the bottom of his locker and stuck it in his backpack. He stood up, closing his locker with his foot, and looked back at Martha. “But don’t count on it.”

 

“Alright,” she said, showing a large white smile. She looked down at a small, delicate watch on her wrist, and then back up at John. “Well, Andre’s getting out of practice, see you after school?”

 

_Andre. Beautiful, stunning, untouchable Andre._

 

“Sure thing,” John replied, and Martha waved as she turned to dash down the hall back towards the gym. John stood there, shaking his head. He loved Martha more than most people on the planet, she kept almost all of his secrets, particularly the ones about his father’s drunken stupors and violent outbursts. But he couldn’t trust her with his sexuality.

 

The one person he wanted to trust with that was fucking her.

 

***

 

**2/14/04**

 

John stood outside of Alex’s dorm building, tapping his toes against a bench foot. The temperature wasn’t nearly as bitterly cold as it had been a month ago, and so his windbreaker was halfway unzipped, showing the light grey button up he had donned. His unruly hair was let down, but kept in place by a red beanie he had pulled on as he rushed out of his dorm so that he wasn’t late in picking Alex up.

 

 _This isn’t a date_ , he told himself. _There will be no touching, no kissing, no--_

 

“Gooooood evening, John Laurens,” Alex exclaimed, John looking up as the door behind Alex swung closed. And he stifled his lung’s collapsed reaction to the incredibly stunning Alexander Hamilton, who changed out his usual black coat for a black blazer and let his slightly wavy hair down. John smiled as he sauntered over.

 

“Good evening to you, too,” John replied, recovering quickly from his momentary falter in cool.

 

“I do believe I have the pleasure of taking you out tonight?” Alex firmly placed his hand on John’s shoulder, and John did his best to contain the shudder that threatened to escape his spine.

 

“It seems so,” John chuckled, and Alex smiled. His hand slid down John’s arm and loosely gripped his palm. “Let’s be off, then,” Alex hummed, and John was suddenly being pulled by a jogging Alex into the main courtyard towards the upperclassmen housing that Hercules lived in. John’s heart was palpatating; it had been only two years since the last time someone held his hand like that.

 

***

 

**2/14/02**

 

John leaned back against the wall outside of the gym. He was a TA for Steuben, the combined health and gym teacher, and he waited for Steuben to stop calling roll so that he could begin grading the health quizzes from earlier that day. Unlike every other teacher at the school, Steuben was a staunch liberal, and managed to sneak a fair amount about sexual education into the curriculum.

 

“The school doesn’t want me to teach you about sinning, but sinning isn’t something that’s taught. So the school can **Lutsch meine eier** ” was Steuben’s token line. And it was this token line, and the lecture that followed, that led John to trust Steuben as a good source of information, particularly about AIDS. In fact, half of his work as a TA was helping Steuben to assemble a lesson plan specifically for students to better understand AIDS and dispel rumors about it.

 

Everyone at the school knew that Steuben was an out-and-proud gay man who had come back to religion ten years prior, and he was one of the most beloved teachers at the school. His intense desire for accessible education and his rigorous gym regimen for the sports teams under his care made him a father figure among many kids at the high school, many of whom had found themselves in less-than-desirable circumstances after rowdy school dances. Steuben was the “good cop”, even though he had a reputation as a hardass to the more conservative students at the school. He made it clear that anyone who actively promoted homophobia while in his classrooms were to face harsher scrutiny under him than any of his football players would. Samuel Seabury lost his valedictorian position after he was caught putting pink triangle post-its that said ‘I’m a p***y!’ to people’s backs in class a few years prior.

 

John had smiled when Steuben recounted the story at the beginning of the class last semester, and while he had never opened up to Steuben with words there was a shared glance and head nod when Steuben angrily refuted one particular student’s insistence that HIV was what made people gay.

 

And so, when Steuben swaggered out of the gym and nodded towards John, he felt safe. Something he had never thought he would feel around a large, bearded, bible-thumping German until he had become one of Steuben’s favorite students. John followed Steuben into his office, and sat down at his small side desk as Steuben picked up a stack of quizzes.

 

“A’ight. There are a few prize **arschlochs** in the class you’re grading today, and I understand entirely if you set them aside for me to grade,” Steuben began, handing the quizzes to John. “Also, Andre will be coming in to pick up his spare jersey, don’t mind him.”

 

John swallowed, and hoped that Steuben didn’t hear it. He quickly smiled.

 

“Alright, good to know,” John replied, hoping his flustered face didn’t betray how he felt about the impending visit.

 

“Now, excuse me, I have to make sure people aren’t shacking up in the weight room again,” Steuben said, leaving the office. John heard angry German swearing a few seconds later from down the hall, and he chuckled as he turned towards the desk, dropping the quizzes squarely onto it.

 

Fifteen minutes, seven quizzes, and a scrawled rebuttal to someone’s passive-aggressive bible verses in the margins of their quiz later, John heard the office door open.

 

“Hey,” a relatively deep voice said. John’s heart stopped as he turned towards Andre, whose sleek body was hiding under a light blue hoodie.

 

“Howdy,” John replied, breathing slowly so that the blood flooding his cheeks would dissipate at least a small amount.

 

“I’m here to pick up the jersey, do you know where it is?”

 

“Uh, not sure, it’s probably in that box over there,” John said, turning in his chair and pointing at a box in the far corner of the room. Andre nodded, and John halfway turned back to the pile of quizzes, watching Andre out of the corner of his eye. He bit the inside of his cheek as Andre bent over, showing the fine sculpted curvature of his muscular thighs. He looked away when Andre made eye contact with him, and John busied himself with the next quiz. Suddenly, he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder.

 

“So, see you tonight at the party?” John turned to look at Andre and was startled by how close he was.

 

“Maybe, I honestly don’t know. I’ve got a fair amount of homework, and my dad…” John drawled, shrugging off the rest of the sentence. Andre nodded and loosened his grip on John’s shoulder.

 

“Martha’s mentioned some things,” Andre said, and John’s heart stopped. “She’s worried about you, dude.”

 

John waved his hand and shrugged. “It’s manageable. And he seems to be getting better.” He was only half-lying, it had been two weeks since the last time his father threatened to hit him over the head with a bottle if he locked away the drinks again.

 

“You’ll let me know if I can help, right? I’m worried, too,” Andre replied, his fingers slowly dragging down John’s arm. He really hoped Andre couldn’t feel how his heart was rapidly picking up speed. He couldn’t tell if Andre was actually crouching down or if he was imagining that his face was only a foot away at this point.

 

“Of course,” John quickly muttered, swallowing. The next few moments were a blur: fingers interlocking, hair being brushed back, and gazes flickering between eyes and lips. Andre’s lips were flush against his, softly pressing into his own. It was brief and fleeting, and soon enough John was opening his eyes, observing Andre’s slightly flushed cheeks. John swiveled around to the door as he heard approaching footsteps, and he felt Andre’s fingers slip away as Andre took a modestly sized step aside. Steuben walked in and smiled.

 

“Ah, Andre! You grabbed your jersey?” John jumped a little at Steuben’s booming voice, but managed to stay in his chair.

 

“Yessir,” Andre said, waving the jersey with his other hand. “I might be leaving drills a little early this afternoon, is that alright, coach?”

 

“Only this one time, Andre,” Steuben gravely replied, though he still smiled. “It will be a cold day in hell when I deny you time with your beloved **frauline** on Valentines day.”

 

“Thank you, coach,” Andre smiled, clapping his free hand against Steuben’s shoulder, who returned the guesture. John watched as Andre walked out of the office without returning a glance to him. He turned back to the quizzes.

 

“That Andre is a good kid,” Steuben said from the other side of the room.

 

“Yeah,” John replied, clearning his throat as he focused on the quiz in front of him that had misspelled the full acronym for IUD. “He’s a decent guy.”

 

***

 

**2/14/04**

 

The party was in full swing shortly after John and Alex arrived. While there were less people crowding the small space, couples were crowding each other. Alex, still holding John’s hand, looked up at him and smiled as “Get This Party Started” began.

 

“May I have this dance?” John blinked as Alex slid in front of him, grabbing his other hand. John smiled and nodded, grinning as Alex pulled both of them into the middle of the large common area. He was being pulled towards and away from Alex in large circles, and was soon joining into Alex’s laughter between loudly singing along to P!nk. As the song ended, John was flung a small distance away, stumbling directly into Lafayette.

 

“ _Mon amour_ ,” she exclaimed, giggling and gently putting her hand on John’s shoulder, “I’m so happy you could make it!”

 

“I’m glad I could come,” John said, smiling. Alex approached from the side, brushing the back of his hand against John’s. John’s heart lept into his throat at the slight touch, bringing his quick heartbeat from his chest into his ears.

 

“Alex,” she exclaimed, pulling Alex into a tight hug. Alex laughed and looked at John, who was smiling slightly. He felt someone tap on his opposite shoulder, and he turned to see Hercules smiling at him. He exclaimed and pulled her into a hug, ruffling her short afro. She pulled away to grab his hand and tugged him towards the other side of the room. He looked back to Alex and Lafayette, who were talking. Alex glanced at John and waved, and then John was quickly being sat down at a table.

 

“Okay John,” Hercules said, and John turned towards her. She was pouring two shots of whiskey, and John grinned.

 

“We going shot for shot again?” John asked.

 

“Of course,” Hercules said, pushing one of the shot glasses to him. “Except instead of just making out with random people, you’ve gotta kiss your valentine.” John chuckled, shaking his head.

 

“You see, I’ve already won, because you make out with anyone and everyone at every party,” John replied, and Hercules laughed.

 

“Well, your logic is flawed, because I don’t got no valentine,” she spat, downing her shot. John downed his, feeling the burn of the alcohol ride down his throat. He clenched his jaw as he adjusted, putting the glass down on the table.

 

“I don’t either, though,” John said a little too quickly. He saw Hercules’ eyes narrow and knew that he had goofed.

 

“Nah,” she said dryly, setting her shot glass down. “You’re obviously infatuated with Alex.”

 

John shook his head, his hair bouncing about. “Lies,” he said, grinning.

 

“Well, we’ll see how long your lie lasts,” she said. “Now, we go dance for three songs, and then we take another shot.”

 

“Alright,” John said, standing up. He strode into the crowd and rode out the first three songs alone.

 

Hercules didn’t include the fact that Lafayette was playing the same game with a particular black-haired freshman and parroting the same conversation with him.

 

***

 

Three shot rounds later, John was sitting at the edge of the common area, sipping some water. Hercules, while still standing and dancing, had urged John to take some water after catching him stealing some punch from the drinks table. She caught his eyes and cocked an eyebrow knowingly. He nodded and shifted his feet.

 

John knew that he was stalling drunkenly flirting with Alex. His emotions were bubbling up to the surface, which helped with being more flirtatious. But with the increased affection came the anxiety surrounding his growing crush on Alex. John knew that keeping his trap shut would cause the least amount of complications. He learned that the hard way with Andre.

 

But before he could wander back into his own head, he was being pulled into a dance with--

 

“Alex?! Whoa, dude, hold up,” John was sputtering. He had dropped his cup of water when Alex pulled him away. Alex was giggling and wearing a shit-eating grin, his eyes glistening in the lowered lights.

 

“It’s a slow dance, you dummy,” Alex giggled back, and John noted how he swayed when he stopped walking. “And I haven’t seen you dance with anyone since we got here.” He placed his hands on John’s shoulders, and John’s breath caught in his throat as ‘I’m With You’ started.

 

“I’ve danced with plenty of people,” John rebutted, placing his hands on Alex’s sides and beginning to sway to the song.

 

“But not, like, _danced_ ,” Alex replied, drawing closer to John. John cleared his throat and looked past Alex’s head, trying not to look at his face.

 

“Well maybe I’m not comfortable with dancing, did you consider that?” John took a glance at Alex, and _Oh God._ His eyes were gently looking at John’s nose, and his mouth seemed to be faltering between a gentle smile and a contemplative pucker. Alex settled on contemplation after a split second, and John nearly regretted saying the question. Alex shrugged as he stumbled towards John.

 

“You didn’t seem to want to run away when we danced earlier,” he said, his smile peering back on his face.

 

“Fair point,” John replied, chuckling. He watched as Alex looked to the side for a moment, wanting to reach out and tangle his hands in his black locks-- _John no_. Alex looked back after a split moment, and scrunched his nose up.

 

“Is there something in my hair,” he cautiously asked, taking one of his hands off of John’s shoulder and combed his fingers through his hair as he suddenly stepped to the side. _Oh my God_.

 

“Nah,” John plainly said. “Just spacing out, I guess.”

 

“Heh,” Alex huffed. “How drunk are you right now?”

 

“The real question is, how drunk are _you_ ,” John reflected back. “Cuz I’ve only had three shots and a few cups of punch, but you are doing more stumbling than me.” And it was true, Alex had tripped on his feet a few time since they started dancing. Alex blushed slightly, then looked down at his feet.

 

“I might have tried to go shot-for-shot with Lafayette,” Alex sheepishly said. “We stopped at six and Lafayette had me drink a pint before coming out here.”

 

John’s mouth gaped open. He suddenly recognized what was happening. _This can’t be happening_. “You’re done for the night already?”

 

“Oh God no,” Alex snapped, stumbling backwards. John gripped his side to keep him from falling, and he took the moment to pull Alex a little closer. His mind was enjoying the fuzzy warmth that flooded his senses when Alex drifted close to him. _This isn’t happening._

 

“You sure about that? You nearly fell over,” John replied.

 

“Well, I highly doubt I’ll be going home with anyone tonight,” Alex said, causing John’s heart to sink. “And Lafayette only has the drink ban on me for another…” Alex looked around for a clock and caught sight of one, then looked back at John. “45 minutes?”

 

“Aw, don’t worry, you’ll find someone willing to drag your ass home,” John said, faking a small smile. Alex giggled.

 

“I don’t think I need to find him, per-say,” Alex replied. _Wait, did he just say ‘him’?_

 

“Oh?” John’s pulse was ringing in his ears. Alex was looking up at John and lightly biting his bottom lip, as if trying to read John’s face. John blushed, slightly shaking his head. _It’s not happening._

 

John wasn’t sure how long he could keep himself in blissful denial at this point, but that time was cut short by Alex suddenly jumping up and pecking his lips. The kiss was so sudden and short that John didn’t have the time to close his eyes. He was stunned, and he wasn’t sure if the tingling in his stomach was from the alcohol, the nerves, or the sudden rush of adrenaline in his muscles. _This is happening._ He blinked and watched as Alex’s small, hopeful smile started to melt.

 

“Hang on,” John said, holding a hand out. “I need some time to process.”

 

Alex worriedly took his hand. “Let’s move you out of people’s way, an Eminem song is about to start,” he muttered, tugging John along.

 

_This is happening, Lafayette and Hercules are getting me with him._

 

The cold of the air suddenly bit through his shirt. Alex had taken them to the small balcony overlooking the campus, the night sky above them surprisingly clear, though starless. John looked out at the nearby buildings, trying to count his rapid heartbeats.

 

He didn’t know how long he was gazing into the darkness, but it took Alex tapping his elbow a few times for John to snap back to reality. _Alex. Right._ He turned towards him, noticing how Alex seemed to be standing farther away than he usually did. Like they were strangers. He was staring at the ground and fiddling with his blazer’s sleeves, and John huffed lightly. Alex looked up, his eyebrows inclined worriedly.

 

“Listen, I’m sorry if that was too forward,” Alex calmly said. “I just… Lafayette said--”

 

John started laughing. He covered his mouth with his hand and looked at the ground and curled inwards, trying to stifle his outburst. He looked back up at Alex, who looked confused and on the verge of shouting. John cleared his throat, an occasional laugh breaking through.

 

“Okay,” John said, taking his hand away. “So Lafayette introduced you to the shot game?”

 

“Wait, you know about…” Alex said, the sentence trailing off. He was rubbing his fingertips together in nervousness and his eyes were flickering between the balcony door and John.

 

“Of course, I was playing it, too,” John replied. “But with Hercules,” he added on as he saw Alex start to deflate. _Oh shit_ , he thought as Alex suddenly shifted from confused to annoyed.

 

“So I’m being teased, is that it,” Alex lightly spat, his brows furrowed.

 

“No, not at all,” John said. “Why would we tease you?” _Shit shit shit, it’s backfiring._

 

“Just.. I thought that… I just,” Alex sputtered, looking at the ground. John strode towards him and rested his hands on Alex’s shoulders and rubbed his thumbs across his collarbones. Alex’s face seemed to relax a little before freezing into a stunned and _Oh no, why do you look scared, stop that. How do I stop that?_

 

“Hey,” John said calmly. “It’s okay.” He looked around and saw the porch swing and let go of Alex and walked towards it. “Let’s talk this out, okay?” He looked back to Alex, who was looking at John incredulously. John nodded towards the swing.

 

“Hey, I’m not just going to leave you here,” he said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was freaking out at how cool he was playing this. He hadn’t expected Hercules and Lafayette to double team, although his hindsight was pointing out how obvious their setup was. Having Alex and John come together, then pulling them into the same game, obviously knowing information on Alex’s side that John wasn’t privy to.

 

Alex sat down on the opposite side of the swing and looked at his feet. John looked at how Alex’s hair cascaded down onto his shoulders. And then Alex tucked some hair behind his hair, and John had to restrain himself from sharply inhaling. _He looks so nervous. How do I fix this, how do I make that face not nerv--_

 

“So, uh, you know how the game works, I’m guessing?” Alex looked at John, nervously biting the corner of his mouth. John nodded.

 

“Yeah, I was playing it, too,” John replied, and Alex sunk his head into his hands.

 

“Oh God,” Alex mumbled, and he sat up, dragging his hands down his face as he breathed deeply. John watched as Alex figured out what to say next, and felt his own denial about Alex’s feelings melt into a volatile need for action. Alex looked at John, and for a few seconds they just looked at each other. John finally sat up and scooted towards Alex, resting his hand palm up on Alex’s knee. Alex looked between John’s eyes and his open palm.

 

“It’s okay,” John said, then leaned in and pecked Alex’s cheek. “We’ll beat them.”

 

“Together?” Alex asked, turning his head towards John. He took the plunge and closed the distance between them, finally giving his adrenaline something to do while he gently placed light pecks to Alex’s top lip. Soon enough, Alex was responding with light pecks as well, and John felt Alex’s hand rest on his own. They spent several minutes like that, littering each other’s mouths and cheeks with light kisses. After a final, lingering kiss, they pulled apart, gazing into each other’s eyes.

 

“Together,” John whispered, tangling his fingers with Alex’s. He was starting to feel the chill in his fingertips and stood up, pulling Alex with him.

 

“But, not out in the cold.”

  
“Of course,” Alex said, smiling. John pulled Alex back into the suite and jumped directly into the throng of swaying couples. And as they held each other to Vanessa Carlton, they didn’t notice Lafayette and Hercules snapping photos of their gentle kisses in the middle of the suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at @laramidianphantoms and @rambleton on tumblr!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after Valentine's Day, John has a surprise meetup with Alex outside the Columbia University subway entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so late and off-schedule! I also apologize for the "meh-ness" of this channel, I had a combination of writer's block and what I'm calling writer's trudge (you know, those scenes that are kinda boring but lead up to an exciting and important scene). I'm also in the middle of school, so updates will be sparing until mid-May. I'm also planning on publishing at least one more in-universe fic to help establish more of the happenings in my particular view of what's happening here.
> 
> Also, reminder that Hercules hasn't come out yet, so she/her pronouns are used for her in this chapter!

**2/21/04**

 

John waited anxiously by the subway stop near campus. He bit his lower lip and stared at his phone.

 

**Angry Ham:**

**Meet me at the Subway station after your class. I want to show you something.**

 

He didn’t know what to expect with Alex anymore. After the party last week where they had drunkenly kissed through several songs on the dancefloor, there was barely any hint that Alex held any affection for him. John brushed the small thoughts that said  _ He’s just playing you _ ,  _ No one could ever love you _ with staring at the three midterms that Alex had that week on his calendar. And this random text, out-of-the-blue, seemed unusual.

 

He had talked to Hercules at the on-campus Starbucks right before his noon class.

 

“Honestly, that seems a little weird for Alex,” she had said, sipping on her chocolate frappucino. John cocked an eyebrow at her.

 

“And how would you know, given that you’ve only known Alex for a week, at most?”

 

“He spends pretty much all the nights he can in my room. Apparently his roommate is Charles Lee,” Hercules spat, pulling a disgusted face. John sighed.

 

“Well, wouldn’t blame him,” John muttered. He and Charles had gotten into a few off-campus altercations after some poorly-chosen slurs had been spat onto Lafayette during orientation. John looked back at Hercules. “So I guess you two have gotten close?”

 

“Well, as close as a heartless bitch like me can get to someone,” Hercules replied, winking. John chuckled.

 

“Herc, you’re not  _ that _ bad,” John replied.

 

“I know, but I don’t want anyone else thinking that I’m not as indestructible as I am,” she replied. “You don’t get the name Hercules on the rugby team if you’re not indestructible.”

 

“Fair point, and Harriet really doesn’t fit you,” John added. Hercules stared into his eyes, and John thought for a moment he saw a flash of… fear? Shame? Denial, perhaps. But it went away as soon as Hercules blinked.

 

“Yeah, it really doesn’t,” she chipperly said, smiling. “But anyways, back to Alex. As you’ve probably noticed, he doesn’t text.”

 

John chortled. “I’m aware, he usually calls me when he wants to get food or something.”

 

“So you’re saying he doesn’t call you for…  _ other _ things?” Hercules waggled her eyebrows, and John rolled his eyes.

 

“He’s got midterms this week, and as much as I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed kissing I don’t think he’d want me to meet him at the subway station for a casual make-out session,” John replied.

 

“Fair point,” Hercules said, finishing her drink with a loud slurp.

 

“I just… I don’t get it. We make out, and then he tells me the next day he’s got a shitton of tests this week, but that he’ll call me, and then he doesn’t, and now he texts me this?” John looked at the phone, and Hercules nods. “I mean, what the hell is this supposed to be?”

 

Hercules laughs softly. “John, if I didn’t know that you were a somewhat clueless gay boy from South Carolina, I’d be baffled at how you wouldn’t be able to see that this is clearly a set-up for a date. But, because I know that you are a somewhat clueless gay boy from South Carolina…” Hercules paused and looked at John, who was shaking his head.

 

“I’m not that clueless,” he replied.

 

“No, you’re right,” she responded. “You’re just really ready to shoot down any ideas about actually being gay.”

 

John’s jaw dropped. “Excuse you, I am a proud gay man,” he lightly exclaimed.

 

“Uh huh, yeah, tell that to the five boys Laf and I have tried to set you up with,” Hercules replied, calmly looking at her shortly-trimmed nails.

 

“Being gay doesn’t mean that I’m not picky,” John retorted, and Hercules shrugged. “I mean, you guys tried to set me up with quite a few math majors. Like, how do y’all even know math majors?”

 

“I don’t know them, you can blame Laf for that,” Hercules chuckled. “But seriously, John: It’s not that hard to decode that Alex is gonna take you on an impromptu date.”

 

“Well maybe I have work to do,” John impatiently retorted, and Hercules smiled.

 

“But all three of us, meaning me, Laf, and Alex, know that you  _ reeeeeeeeally _ don’t want to do your readings for Philosophy of Law,” she purred, and John slightly nodded. Hercules looked at her small, white leather watch, and then back up at John.

 

“Your class starts in ten minutes, dude,” she said, and John swore. He stood up, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders.

 

“Thanks,” he muttered, repositioning his black beanie on his head as he prepared to walk away.

 

“Oh, John,” Hercules called out as John took his first step. He turned back towards her.

 

“Alex says to bring your student ID,” Hercules said, smiling coyly. John shook his head and flipped her off, smiling as he walked away.  _ Of course she’d be in on this _ , he thought.  _ Of course. _

 

And so, here he stood, just a little before two, inbetween the moderate hustle and bustle outside of Columbia’s main gates. He sighed and looked at the buildings across the street, tall and absolute. He felt a tap on his left shoulder, and he turned to see Alex standing there. Hair tied back in a bun, black hoodie zipped up over a dark green tee shirt, dark blue jeans, and white Vans. John brought his eyes back to Alex’s.

 

“Well you’re looking sharp,” John said nonchalantly, trying to hide how his breath hitched with his heart at seeing Alex in what was obviously a casual “dress to impress” outfit. “Who’s the lucky kid?”

 

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Alex said. “They’re right around your height, with big, curly hair, and too many freckles for a Hispanic kid.” Alex smiled, his eyes glittering with cheeky happiness. John felt his cheeks blush, and he looked down at the ground. He saw a quarter--probably glued down by some student years ago to watch people bend over to pick it up-- next to his own shoe. When he looked back up, Alex was lightly biting the corner of his own mouth.

 

“So, uh, you said you wanted to show me something,” John gently probed, and Alex’s mouth unleashed a large grin. Before he knew it, he was being dragged down into the subway tunnel, tethered to Alex via a hand around his wrist, along with the shadow of a muttered ‘Come with me’. John hurried to stay close to Alex as he weaved through the tunnels. He was grateful it wasn’t a proper rush hour, since most people’s lunch breaks had just ended.

 

Alex swiped his MetroCard through the turnstile and waited as John followed suit, stopping for a moment afterwards and looking Alex. As much as Alex holding his hand unnerved him, the pressure on his wrist was pleasant, John would even think about calling it calming. But that wasn’t what was pressing into his mind right now.

 

“Do you know which trains we are taking,” John asked, genuinely concerned now. He wasn’t sure how long Alex had been in the city, or if--

 

“We’re going on the 1,” Alex muttered. “But no more hints.” Alex took John’s hand again, and John was left to trot along into a train, with  _ Hints? _ tainting his thoughts. Alex sat down in a bench on the train, and John sat next to him as the door closed. The tiles on the walls said ‘Columbia University’, but was soon replaced with the darkness and occasional lights of the subway tunnels between stations. John was staring out the train when he felt Alex retract his hand from John’s. John focused on Alex, who was leaning up against the window and smirking, arms folded confidently against his chest.

 

“You’re trying to figure out where we’re going,” Alex teased. John rolled his eyes.

 

“No, I’m just admiring the tunnel,” John dryly replied. Alex looked behind himself and then back at John, an eyebrow cocked.

 

“But there’s nothing there,” Alex said.

 

“Consider this: I haven’t been on the subway very often before,” John posed, and Alex’s jaw dropped.

 

“Seriously? And I thought you went partying a lot, come on,” Alex lightly exclaimed.

 

“I’m a liberal college student with a small friend group, not a young entrepreneur trying to do networking or an art major looking for the deepest underground scene,” John retorted.  _ And I am also unnerved by bars and clubs. _ Not that he would tell Alex that, in case--

 

“Understandable,” Alex replied. “I’m also not one for partying in the city, honestly. But I’m also not one for partying.”

 

John breathed a sigh of relief, and Alex smiled. There was a moment of silence as the train entered another station. When the doors slid open and closed again, Alex cleared his throat and began talking again.

 

“So, tell me John, what parts of the city have you actually seen?”

 

“Well, I went to Central Park a lot before it got terribly cold. There’s this nice little yarn shop near the upper corner that Herc took me to during the first week before rugby season started up, and Laf did have us go on a late-night stroll through Lower Manhattan with her brother in October,” John rambled, looking down at his legs. “But then there were too many midterms and a lot of off-campus games that Laf and I went to for Herc, and since I’ve only been in the city since September I haven’t had that much time to go anywhere, really.” John looked back up at Alex, who looked thoughtfully at him. John straightened up as the train slowed again for another stop, and when it departed he reflected the question.

 

“What about you,” John asked. “I actually don’t know too much about your pre-Columbia life.”

 

“I’ve been in Manhattan since last spring,” Alex quickly replied. “I stayed with some friends of--” he paused, inhaling suddenly, “--my mother, and they’ve been helping me get through school.” The last part was very rushed, almost to the point where John didn’t hear it. Alex blinked, and then looked past John out the opposite window as the train pulled into another station. John looked down at the ground, nodding slightly. He knew what that quick talking meant. He did it when Lafayette had started prying into why John wasn’t keen on dating anyone she had tried to set him up with. And so he respected the space that Alex wanted. But that didn’t mean that the conversation was over, for John at least.

 

“So, in terms of Manhattan,” John began again, turning his body towards Alex, who was looking out the window again,  _ or was he, he seemed to be looking at my hat. _ “Where have you gone?”

 

Alex noncommittally shrugged. “A fair amount of places. The numerous libraries, the Cloisters, a bunch of the museums… There’s this really cute bodega in Washington Heights, though. I think I’ve mentioned it before? Great coffee. Anyway, I used to talk to the teen that works there about the gentrification of the surrounding neighborhood...”

 

John caught onto the word ‘museum’.

 

***

 

**3/7/02**

 

John gripped his pencil a little tighter as he scribbled down stars next to brief mentions of Charles Darwin in the teacher’s lecture about “the intelligent design debate”. John’s local library readings of older textbooks had been dissected by a younger John, who was fascinated by the tortoises of the Galapagos. And when he was younger, he had been excited to learn about evolution in his science classes.

 

Until he tried to ask about evolution in a class a few years prior.

 

It was at “You see, evolutionists don’t recognize that some structures are too complicated to _not_ be designed,” that he stopped actually taking notes. A small doodle of a  _ Pakicetus  _ bathing in water had turned into a large, swirling mural of  _ Basilosaurus _ and  _ Ambulocetus _ swimming into deeper waters as dolphins, orcas, and whales swam alongside and breached the surface of the ocean on his paper.  _ Hesperornis _ was by the shore, and modern shorebirds were dive-bombing into the water next to the dolphins, and--

 

His pencil drew an abrupt line as the teacher violently pushed his desk. John, startled, looked up, his gaze met by the teacher. He didn’t care to remember his name, since this small biology rotation in the science section at his school was A Joke. But he did recognize the judgment in his eyes.

 

“John, what are you drawing there,” the teacher drooled, grinning maniacally. John’s mind blanked in fear: the last time he had openly tried to explain that the fossil ancestors of whales were land-walking mammals, he got detention for a month. Of course, his father had contested it, but not without gaining the scorn of most of the student body. Word spread fast in private Southern Baptist schools, and evolution was not--

 

“Drawing fantasy creatures,” John smoothy replied in an attempt to assuage the teacher. He leaned back, smiling. The teacher, taken back by the unexpected answer, half-shrugged.

 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” the teacher said, backing away and turning back to the whiteboard. John sighed and flipped the page over. He did a better job of pretending to be listening, since he was now being stared at by half of the class.

 

He retreated to his car after school ended, avoiding the football field. He had somehow succeeded in avoiding Andre since Valentine’s Day, even with Martha continually inviting him over. John deflected by saying he was taking care of his siblings, which… wasn’t terribly far from the truth. His father had recorded the Opening Ceremonies to the Winter Olympics that year and had taken up rewatching the “In Memoriam” section over and over again after the Closing Ceremonies. The stench of gin reeked through the kitchen more often than not, and bruises from kindly asking Henry to drink in the side apartment were starting to fade, finally.

 

John pushed the thoughts aside as he drove through Charleston’s streets. It was early in the afternoon still, and traffic wasn’t heavy.  _ 2:10, I have time _ , he thought. John pulled onto a nearby college campus and up to a solitary building near the edge of campus, parking nearby the building. He stepped out, letting the slight breeze jostle his short curls. The steps he took into the building and up the flight of stairs to the second floor were automatic for him, his mind filling with half-broken memories of how often his mother took him here. It wasn’t until he was jolted into reality by a geology major at the front desk of the small geological collection that John let those memories pause. He dug out his high school ID, flashed it at the college student, and strode in.

 

John only recently started to appreciate the fossils he was staring at. Were his mother here with him, she’d tell him all sorts of interesting facts about these long-lost animals, their ecosystems, their lives. And so, it was with trembling hands and a reverently heavy heart that he took out a small notebook from his backpack and started writing specimens down to look up later.

 

***

 

“Yo, we’re transferring trains,” Alex says, shaking John from his reflective reverie. It is in being pulled out of the train by Alex that he realizes that Alex had his hand clamped onto his wrist again. His breath slows, even in the rush of quickly getting onto a train--  _ C train, in case some shit goes down, Southbound _ \-- and sitting down on a longwise bench as it leaves. Alex chuckles as he settled down, and John smiled.

 

“Well, that was unexpected,” John says.

 

“Funny, given that I warned you a stop in advance,” Alex retorts, cocking an eyebrow. “You did seem like you were intentionally trying to ignore my discussion of gentrification in Northern Manhattan.”

 

“Nah, just thinking,” John automatically replied. He looked down at Alex’s hand holding his wrist. “You know you’re still holding my wrist, right?”

 

Alex blinked, then quickly withdrew his hand. John’s mouth tugged down at one of the corners, but then he shrugged.

 

“Sorry,” Alex muttered. “I forget that I’m much more touchy than most people.”

 

“It’s fine,” John replied, loosely waving a hand. “How far downtown we going?” He turned to Alex, whose face was turning into a wide grin.

 

“Ah, more guessing, I presume?”

 

“Not really, but it’s fun to attempt,” John said, smiling.

 

“Heh,” Alex chuffed, leaning back. “Not too far downtown.”

 

“So, like, SoHo area?”

 

Alex began laughing. “That’s too downtown, yo.”

 

“Hang on, how far does the C train go,” John suddenly asked, looking around. There had to be a map around here somewhere. Alex’s eyes went wide as John caught sight of a large map on the opposite side of the train. He got up to move, and Alex gripped his wrist again.

 

“Idiot, we’re not supposed to move while the train is moving,” Alex said, a grin on his face.

 

“This isn’t an airplane, nerd,” John replied, loosely wiggling his hand out of Alex’s grip. He grabbed a nearby bar and started walking. He looked behind him, and Alex was following. John began to run, when the train suddenly slowed down for the next stop. The momentum flung John forward onto the ground, and a teen nearby where he fell giggled. John scowled at the teen and looked at Alex, who was leaning on a bar and laughing.

 

_ God _ , John thought. Alex’s eyes were pinched at the corners by laughter, and his smile seemed to light up the small section of the train they were in. And, in that moment, John realized that he was somewhere inbetween a genuine crush and genuinely in love with Alexander Hamilton. And, just as quickly as the moment had started, it left, and soon Alex was offering his hand to help John up as a few people got into the car. They sat down on a paired bench halfway down the car, and John looked wistfully at the map as the doors closed and the train got started again.

 

“You’re not getting up for the rest of the train ride,” Alex said, and John turned and pouted. He saw as Alex’s eyes seemed to flicker between amusement and concern before turning into Alex’s exaggerated pout, which he gave back to John.

 

“But I wanna know where we’re going,” John exclaimed.

 

“Then you gotta guess,” Alex replied. John smiled and leaned back, thinking about the major landmarks in Manhattan.

 

“Well, it’s too early for a Broadway show,” he muttered, and Alex smiled.

 

“We could catch a matinee,” Alex replied, and John shook his head.

 

“We’re not old and boring enough for that.”

 

“Touche,” Alex replied, shrugging.

 

“Are we going near Central Park?”

 

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Okay, you’ve got the general area down.”

 

“So we’re near Central Park.”

 

“In a way, yeah,” Alex replied. “But not specific enough.”

 

“Hmm,” John replied, leaning back. Central Park ruled out a lot of places besides Broadway: Statue of Liberty, Times Square, the Cloisters, Bronx Zoo. But Central park was large, long, and filled with all sorts of activities, both indoors and outdoors. A stop came and went, with people filing in and out of the subway car.

 

“Indoor or outdoor,” John finally asked. There were a lot of people on the train now, and John nervously shuffled his feet.

 

“Probably indoor,” Alex said. “I don’t know if there’s a lot in the outdoor part that would interest you.”

 

“Oh,” John mused, cocking an eyebrow towards Alex.

 

“I mean, unless you’re into statues and shit like that.”

 

So this was right on the borders of the park. John continued to think, although very little entered his mind. He knew very little about the city, and this guessing game that Alex had thrown him into was very quickly becoming unfair.

 

“I give up,” John said after the next stop. Alex looked shocked.

 

“Already?”

 

“I know very little about the city, to be honest,” John replied. “You’ve been here longer than me, remember?”

 

“Fair enough,” Alex replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “But if you had to pick a place to explore, where would you go?”

 

“Well, that depends on the day. On not-very-busy days, I’d probably pick a place like a zoo or a museum,” John said. He thought he saw a flicker of fear in Alex’s eyes, but whatever was there disappeared. “And on good-weather days I’d choose parks.”

 

Alex nodded, staring pensively at John. Another stop came and went.

 

“But would the presence of people bug you if, say, someone were taking you to some place like a zoo or museum,” Alex asked, and John stared at him.  _ So we’re going to a zoo or museum. _ John smiled.

 

“It would depend,” John slowly started, “on who I was with.”

 

This time, Alex turned forward and away from John. “That’s good to know,” he replied quickly, seeming to feign mere curiosity.

 

“What, for the future?”

 

“Yeah, that.” Alex was biting the corner of his mouth again. “For the future.”

 

John chuckled and shook his head. “So, are we going to the Central Park Zoo?”

 

“I’m not answering that,” Alex replied, covering his mouth with a closed fist as a blush climbed up his face. John chuckled.

 

“Are… we going to MoMa?”

 

“Not answering that,” Alex repeated, his voice getting more playfully strained. More people got on the train.

 

“So you’re gonna play this game with me then?” John’s body was fully turned to Alex now.

 

“What game,” Alex said, putting his hand down and looking at John. Alex’s face was flushed with both embarrassment and excitement, his eyes squinting from how hard he was trying to not start laughing.

 

“The one where I repeatedly guess where we’re going multiple times and you internally combust from trying to not blurt out a confirmation,” John smoothly replied, looking out the window as the train stopped again.

 

“Oh God, please no,” Alex said. “I don’t want to play that game.”

 

“Well then I’ll ask other questions,” John said as the train started up again. “How many more stops until ours?”

 

“Wait, do you mean how many stops between this one and the one we get off on, or how many stops until we get off,” Alex replied, eyebrow cocked.

 

“Aren’t those basically the same thing?”

 

“No, they mean two completely different things,” Alex said straightening up and starting to move his arms in order to properly demonstrate. John grinned as Alex’s face turned analytically cold in order to explain what he was saying. He put his two hand up parallel to each other, about shoulder width. He waved one hand.

 

“So this was the stop we were just at,” Alex said, looking back to John. He nodded, and then Alex waved his other hand. “And this is where we’re going.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“So when I asked how many stops between,” Alex continued, “I was talking about this one”-- he jutted his first hand forward-- “this one”--he jutted his hand forward again-- “and so on,” starting to slice through the air, “ _ excluding _ this one,” he finished, waving his other hand which stayed in one spot.

 

“Gotcha, and I’m guessing the other one includes both the first and the last stops?” They entered another station.

 

“Well, that depends, some people would say yes and others would say no. I personally say no,” Alex replied, putting his hands down as the train started moving again.

 

“But wouldn’t it make sense to have the first one?”

 

“No, not really, because once you get to a stop it no longer becomes a future event,” Alex replied. “You’re counting the number of stops in the future.”

 

“But what about actual physical stops of the train? If you’re starting at one place, it could be argued that your stop, where you get on, is the first stop of the journey,” John argued.

 

“But that’s like calling a newborn a one-year-old when it hasn’t passed its first birthday,” Alex retorted.

 

“Okay, so since last stop, how many more stops are there,” John asked again.

 

“We still run into the problem,” Alex said. “But in my ascribed view, we only have two more stops.” The train entered another station, and John stared at him.

 

“Wait, so would this mean one more stop now,” John asked, grinning mischievously.

 

“Well that’s where you just say that we’re getting off at the next stop, but yes,” Alex said, sighing. John looked around for any hints of where they would end up, by chance. There was an unusual amount of kids on the train now: some accompanied with their parents, but most in some sort of after-school program. He turned back to Alex.

 

“Are you sure we’re not at a zoo,” John asked, and Alex nodded.

 

“No, we’re going to, what I think, is better than the zoo.” They pulled into the station. The walls had mosaic animals and dinosaurs on it. John’s heart sped up, and when the train stopped he saw a tile placard:

 

**AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY**

**< = MUSEUM =<**

 

John turned to Alex, who was smiling slightly. John grinned, grabbing Alex’s wrist and darting out the subway doors, pushing a few students out of the way. Alex apologized in passing, laughing as John began running to the right to get in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but seriously guys Alex's explanation of how to talk about subway stops is the only proper way to talk about them. Also, take a gander at the AMNH subway stop, it's absolutely beautiful: https://www.google.com/search?q=google+maps+subway&biw=1366&bih=643&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiQuaqir7rLAhWF0iYKHRNyC3wQ_AUICSgD#tbm=isch&q=amnh+subway
> 
> Also, I'm trying to strengthen my dialogue abilities, so if there's any recommendations you have for that, please let me know! And, as always, I'm accessible at @rambleton and @laramidianphantoms on Tumblr. Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should be a fun date at the museum is rudely interrupted by flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK.
> 
> I am. I am back. With another disjointed chapter because I love to make John suffer. This chapter is un-beta'd because I wanted to get it published. I may post a more edited version next update, which I'm hoping will be more frequent since I'm no longer in school and seem to now have a general idea of how this is going to go.
> 
> Warning for emotional manipulation, negative self-talk, blurred out slurs, disjointing flashbacks, a panic attack, and time-lapsing dissociation. Take care of yourself, friends, it's a wild ride.

**Chapter Six**

 

Alex chuckled as John bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting in line to get through the security checkpoint to get the tickets for the exhibits. John whipped his head around, his hair whipping Alex lightly on the cheek.

 

“Sorry,” John muttered as he willed himself to stop hopping. The line creeped forward, and John raised his arms as the security guard sweeper his body.

 

“It’s fine,” Alex cheerfully replied as his hoodie was accosted by another security guard, and John looked back and smiled as the guard waved him forward. Alex returned the smile with a cheeky grin, rushing up after he was done being looked over. He pointed to a desk.

 

“That's where we get the tickets, make sure to take your student ID out,” he explained, striding forward, brushing slightly against John’s arm. John shook his arm, trying to prevent himself from shivering in public. He was in public, surrounded by children, he couldn't act gay around them.

 

What would their parents think?

 

***

 

**3/9/02**

 

The Laurens’ car was quieter now that mother was dead. It was after ten minutes of this silence on the freeway that led Martha to clear her throat.

 

“Father, can we turn the radio on?”

 

Henry Laurens looked at his daughter in the rear-view mirror. “We’ll be there in less than five minutes, what’s the point?”

 

“It would be relaxing,” Martha softly replied, “but I understand.”

 

Henry bit his lip for a moment, then quietly turned the radio onto a popular station. Martha, Junior, Jemmy, and Mary immediately recognized the familiar tune of “A Thousand Miles” and began to sing along, loudly. John watched from the passenger seat, grimacing when Mary’s little voice would squeak occasionally and when Jemmy’s voice would crack. John chuckled, and Jemmy stuck his tongue out at John.

 

“Not like you sounded any better,” Jemmy muttered during the piano interlude. All the boys in the car laughed--  _ including father. _

 

John looked at Henry, who was smiling with his sunglasses on. John smiled back, then joined in with his siblings as the next verse started up. He kept his eyes on his father, though. He was acting unusually chipper, and John didn’t know if it was because things were finally starting to look up for them all or because he was practicing for being in front of people again.

 

Before 9/11, Henry Laurens had been one of the most influential men in South Carolina politics. Before Henry, the Laurens were very well known; being the heir to a large estate and next-in-line for CEO of a family-run agriculture business often did that to families in the South. But rather than continue on as CEO of Laurens’ Wheat Stock, Henry Laurens had politely handed off the deed to the company to his brother to try his hand at direct politics, and had successfully climbed from community council member to senator within John’s lifetime. He held himself as a “moderate”, making sure to hire the right amount of women and non-white people in his offices in order to maintain appearances, and rarely dared to make declarative statements for or against a certain policy in case it ruined his image. There were two things, however, that Henry Laurens was staunchly against: Big Agriculture, and gay marriage.

 

As the car pulled into a parking space outside of an arena, John saw how his father’s face snapped into ‘politician mode’: all smiles, all pleasantries, and all sweetness. John had grown up associating the face with power and good works, only to have it sour when he was discovered flirting with a fellow politician’s son during a dinner a few years ago. That face now represented a cold, unbreakable shell that only shattered at home into cutting remarks. John noticed a small crowd of protesters near the entrance of the arena holding up signs with rainbows, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

 

Henry turned towards the back of the car, turning off the radio smoothly with one hand. He looked to his youngest children, and John swallowed as he began to speak.

 

“Alright, children, we’re going to an American Family Association event. I will be networking with a few of the other senators, and I want you all on your best behavior,” he cheerfully said, looking each of them in the eye. He side-eyed John with a hardness that none of his siblings got, and John could feel his heart in his throat. Henry looked back to John’s siblings, all hardness disappearing from his face. “Now, I know it’s been a while, but do you all remember the rules?”

 

“Yes sir,” they repeated back to him, smiling. “Be punctual, be polite, and be precious!”

 

“Good,” Henry cheerfully boomed, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to John. “Help me get them out of the car?”

 

“Of course,” John replied, unbuckling his own seat and stepping out of the car, where Henry Laurens was staring sternly at him.

 

“Before we go in there,” Henry began, his voice cold as ice, “I want you to know that any…  _ flirtations _ of any sort will be noted.”

 

“I won’t be flirting with anyone,” John replied dryly, preparing to open the door for his siblings.

 

“You won’t be flirting with anyone? Or you won’t be flirting with the nice daughters of my fellow congressmen,” Henry asked. John paused, staring at his father.

 

“ _ Anyone _ ,” he firmly replied.

 

“Splendid. I don’t want anyone in there thinking that the loss of your mother turned you into a f*g, thus endangering our family,” Henry quickly said, then putting on his ‘politician face’ as he opened the car door for John’s siblings. John swallowed and opened the door, where Jemmy had his face against the glass. He stumbled out of the car and grinned at John.

 

“Jacky, let’s go,” he exclaimed, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him to the sidewalk. John quickly let his hand worm out from between his brother’s fingers, and he looked back at his father, who was busy holding Mary while Martha and Junior clamored out of the car. Henry nodded, and John reached up and tapped Jemmy’s shoulder.

 

“Bet I can beat you to the entrance,” John snarked, and Jemmy shook his head.

 

“Bet you can’t!” Jemmy took off, and John jogged behind him, letting Jemmy feel like he was winning--

 

Suddenly, Jemmy was on the ground, after tripping over the wheelchair of a woman wearing a black dress with rainbows embroidered around the seams.

 

“Jemmy,” John called out, catching up to the small seven-year-old. He crouched down and saw Jemmy’s eyes filled with tears and confusion, looking in the direction of the woman. John looked at her and paused. Her hair was completely rainbow-colored, and she was smiling at John and Jemmy.

 

“You alright there? I didn’t mean to trip you,” the woman said, pulling out a lollipop to give to Jemmy. Jemmy wiped away his tears and reached out to grab it, when Henry Laurens barked at him.

 

“James,” he called out, striding over and handing Mary over to John, who was still crouched on the ground. Henry pulled Jemmy up by his hand and looked him in the eye. “Do not talk to strangers,” he began, then looking over at the woman in the wheelchair, scowled out, “ _ especially strangers like her _ .”

 

John stood up, holding Mary and looking at the woman. She seemed unfazed by Henry’s intended insult. Henry strode through the small rainbow-clad crowd, and his children followed, John trailing behind with Mary. He looked back to the woman, who smiled and waved at John. He looked back to Henry, who was staring at him.

 

“ _ She’s disgusting _ ,” Henry mouthed to John, and John bit his tongue.

 

_ Does that make me disgusting? _ The thought replayed in his head as he trailed behind his father talking to other senators and community representatives as they discussed the tragedy that was civil unions.  _ Does that make me disgusting _ , he thought as a group of children played tug-of-war with Holland’s flag, eventually tearing it.  _ Does that make me disgusting _ , he thought as his father denounced homosexuality on the stage of the arena, and as people around him cheered.

 

_ Does that make me disgusting? _

 

***

 

Alex snapped his fingers in front of John’s face.

 

“Yo, you there?”

 

John blinked, and then whipped around. Alex had somehow managed to drag him into a large, marble-clad hall, where student groups were passing by with docents explaining the history of the museum. Tourists strode by speaking in many different languages, and security people milled about--

 

Alex was grabbing his hand and pulling him to the side of the hall, where a young child was running with a stroller. A mother dressed in a sari grabbed the young child, reprimanding them in Indian. John looked to Alex, who was grinning.

 

“You gotta watch out in a place like this,” Alex said.

 

“I guess so,” John said, looking about. Alex grabbed his wrist and pulled him around a corner and pulled out a map.

 

“Okay, so I’ve been here a few times, but you haven’t been here at all, and so I want to let you choose where we go first,” Alex explained. He pointed to a corridor on the main floor. “This is where we are now.”

 

John nodded, scanning the map for interesting things.  _ Planetarium, Hall of Mammals, Hall of Saurischian Dinosaurs-- _ that name seemed familiar. He opened his mouth to say ‘dinosaur hall’ when his gaze fell upon something even greater.

 

_ The Milstein Hall of Ocean Life. _

 

“There,” he said, pointing to the hall on the map. Alex squinted and read the title, then looked back up at John.

 

“Huh,” he said. “Didn’t take you for an ocean type.”

 

John cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t take me for an ocean type’, have you never been to my room?”

 

“No, in fact, I’ve never been in your dorm building,” Alex replied, winking. John felt his cheeks flush red, and Alex continued. “Not that I wouldn’t mind to visit.”

 

John coughed as his adrenaline seemed to push his heartbeat into his throat. “Maybe one day,” he choked out, looking around. “Are there any arrows that might lead us to the ocean hall?”

 

“If we go to the main atrium, yeah, but there’s a faster way through the Hall of Mammals,” Alex quickly supplemented, grabbing John’s wrist again and dragging him up a staircase. There were significantly less people around here, and John tensed when he realized that Alex wasn’t going to let go. As John caught up to Alex’s quick pace, he felt Alex’s fingers drift down into his palm, making John gasp. Alex stopped and looked at him with his large, black eyes.

 

“You okay there dude? You’ve been spacing out all day,” Alex asked. John nodded slightly and climbed up to the step that Alex was on, fingers lightly brushing together. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to not scream out loud.  _ You’re touching me and we’re disgusting people. _

 

“Yeah, just tired,” John replied, his default answer when he didn’t know what to say.

 

“Is today not a good day for museum stuff?” Alex removed his fingers from John’s palm and placed his hand on John’s shoulder. “Because we can--”

 

“No,” John snapped, shrugging off the hand. “I want to do this,” he said, looking into Alex’s eyes.  _ I want to be here, I promise,  _ he thought, hoping that the thought would translate through to Alex.  _ I’m just disgusting. _

 

Alex nodded. “Alright,” he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Let’s go then,” he said, smiling slightly. They ascended the stairs quietly, people passing by, and John counted the steps he took to avoid thinking about how Alex’s fingers hand felt in his palm, how his hand felt on his shoulder, how his lips had felt against his only last week. He was failing at counting, obviously.

 

He bumped into Alex, who was turned toward him and smiling.

 

“So, tell me, what’s your favorite animal,” Alex asked, and John raised his eyebrows in surprise.

 

“Why do you want to know,” John replied, his mouth quirking into a smile.

 

Alex shrugged. “Curious,” he said, turning back around and forward. John grinned, suddenly. He had a devious plan.

 

“What if,” he began, catching Alex’s attention, “I said you had to guess what it was?”

 

Alex whipped around and looked at John, mouth slightly open, and John internally steeled himself from striding forward and kissing him.  _ Not in public _ , he thought,  _ especially not when you don’t know if he actually wants to kiss you more _ .

 

“ _ Seriously, _ ” Alex asked exasperatedly.

 

“Hey, you made me try to guess where we were going in  _ Manhattan _ , a place that I still don’t know,” John replied.

 

“But that’s  _ Manhattan _ , with a finite amount of possibilities,” Alex exclaimed. “You’re talking about the entirety of Animalia, which consists of thousands of taxa!”

 

“You better get guessing then,” John replied, grinning. Alex sighed and ran a hand over his face as they strode into the Hall of North American Mammals.

 

“Okay, can we do it 20 Questions-style?” Alex asked, “Excluding that question, of course.”

 

“Ehhh,” John squeaked, “You didn’t wanna give me hints earlier…”

 

“ _ Johhhhhnnnnn _ ,” Alex whined, resting his chin on John’s shoulder. John froze, holding his breath, and looked around at a nearby family.  _ Disgusting. _ They were turned away from them, thankfully, looking at a moose in a display case. John looked back at Alex and backed away, Alex stumbling as his headrest was moved.

 

“Wha--”

 

“Not in public,” John whispered, and he looked away from Alex, suddenly very interested in the bison in the case ahead of them. He could see Alex opening his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but then he saw it close as he looked back to the ground. John looked at him.

 

“I’m sorry,” John whispered even more quietly. Alex looked up at him, his large eyes round with surprise.

 

“No, it was my bad for making the move,” Alex replied. “I should have asked before… yeah.” John felt his heart jump when Alex looked back down at the ground. He didn’t want to make Alex feel as ashamed about this as he himself did, and so John smiled as he cleared his throat.

 

“So, what’s your first question,” he asked, and Alex snapped his head back up. John’s smile turned into a grin as he saw Alex’s brain working through questions, the solemn look on his face turning to one of contemplation, as if he were making an important decision.

 

“Well, is it in the Hall of Ocean Life?”

 

“I’m… actually not sure,” John replied. “I haven’t been here before, remember?”

 

“Oh, right,” Alex said. “Do you want to go there first?”

 

“With pleasure,” he said, smiling. Alex smiled back, leaning close to him but putting his hands into his pockets.

 

“Follow me,” he said, walking back the way that they had come into the hall. John followed as Alex dove his way through crowds of tourists and school groups, entering a hall with light pouring in from teh walls. John paused as he looked around, taking in the sheer amount of  _ animals _ in the room. He looked up at the fish displayed from the ceiling, large rays posed to look like they were swooping over the wall cases of crabs, snails, slugs, and more fish. In the center was a green-lit wall divider with monkeys, birds, cats, and other vertebrates.

 

He heard a snap in his ear and looked to his left, where Alex stood about arm’s length, arm outstretched in post-snap position. John smiled.

 

“What is this place?”

 

“This,” Alex began, “is the Hall of Biodiversity. The entire span of life, all in this one small room.” Alex exaggeratedly splayed his arms out. John chuckled.

 

“ _ All _ of it?”

 

“Well,” Alex began, letting his arms flop down, “Not all of it, but there is a pretty cool diorama of a rainforest that has a lot of animals in it.” He pointed to the large green wall in the middle of the room.

 

“Oh?” John strode forward, and Alex followed suit. There were large trees with taxidermy animals inside of the glass case, a snapshot of life in death. Birds on tree branches watching monkeys lounging, a large cat perched on a branch. Insects suspended in mid-air between glass and plastic models of plants. John smiled as he matched each species in the diorama with the list found on a nearby sign, and he could feel Alex watching him from a few feet away. After several minutes, he looked back up at Alex, who was looking at John contemplatively.

 

“What,” John asked, smiling as Alex smirked.

 

“Well, I believe I have deducted from the amount of time you spent observing specific animals, that your favorite animal is cold-blooded,” Alex said. John’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“Well, you only took a few glances at the birds and the mammals, but you spent an awful amount of time looking at the gecko on the glass and the frogs on the trees,” Alex explained. “You even counted the spots on one of the frogs out loud! It was…” Alex trailed off, looking down at the ground.

 

“What was it, Alex,” John said, stepping closer to him. They were a couple feet away from each other now, and Alex shook his head.

 

“Nothing,” Alex said. “So, my first question--” John groaned and leaned backwards, chuckling-- “in our game of 20 Questions, is this: Is your favorite animal cold-blooded?” Alex quirked an eyebrow up at John, who was looking back at him with a smile on his face.

 

“Yes,” John confidently said.

 

“HA!” Alex exclaimed, “I’m that much closer!”

 

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” John snarked, “you’ve cut out less than 1/16th of all known species of animals.”

 

“Fair, but I have a hunch that your animal is aquatic in nature?” Alex creeped up behind him, and John could feel the edges of Alex’s opened hoodie against his arm. John looked at Alex, whose face was a few inches away from his shoulder.

 

“Is that your second question?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then the answer is yes,” John replied, and Alex grinned. “But,” John interjected, “keep in mind that it  _ still _ doesn’t narrow down your choices by much.”

 

“I know, so here’s my third question: Is the animal visible with the naked eye,” Alex asked, and John looked at Alex with surprise.

 

“Damn, I didn’t think you’d worm out almost half of worms as quickly as you did,” John replied. “Yes.”

 

Alex gently fistbumped the air, whispering a ‘yeeeees’, then whipped around to John again. “Also, was that a pun? And before you ask, no, that isn’t one of my questions,” Alex chattered.

 

John grinned. “What do you think it was?”

 

“I’m going to go with yes,” Alex replied, whipping around and walking towards a wall of underwater arthropods. John followed.

 

“Hey John, does your favorite animal have an exoskeleton?”

 

John bit his lip. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question without either steering Alex in the wrong direction or giving it away. He settled on a shaky, “Not exactly,” turning and looking at a perpendicular wall of fish. He tried to push the presence of school children entering the room out of his mind, alongside the mocking laughter that reverberated in his head.

 

“Wait, is that a yes or a no,” Alex asked. John turned back to him, smiling.

 

“It’s a ‘not exactly’,” he replied, and Alex exasperatedly sighed.

 

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? How can something ‘not exactly’ have an exoskeleton?”

 

John chuckled. “You’ll figure it out,” he answered, smiling as Alex’s face scrunched up in confusion. John looked towards the entrance of a larger, blue room, and saw the-- no, they couldn’t fit a blue whale in a museum, blue whales were  _ huge _ \--

 

They did.

 

John walked into a large room with a large blue whale descending from the ceiling, almost as if it was swimming towards him. He stood there in awe, his breath slowing in his chest as he took in the size of the animal before him. He could feel tears pricking his eyes, the whale was  _ beautiful _ and he couldn’t believe that they could fit an animal  _ that big _ into the museum.  _ How did they do it, _ he mused, and he looked around for some sort of clue as to how they got the whale in. The room suddenly seemed smaller, there were people everywhere, and he couldn’t find any clues as to how they got the whale in.

 

“You know,” Alex interrupted John’s thoughts, “If you hadn’t already ruled out warm-blooded animals, I would guess that your favorite animal was the blue whale.”

 

John turned to Alex, a tear streaming down one of his eyes. “You don’t understand,  _ these are the largest animals on the planet. _ ”

 

“Well, that are alive today,” Alex muttered, smiling. “A lot of sauropod dinosaurs are predicted to have surpassed even the largest whales in mass.” John looked between Alex and the whale, his mind and chest overflowing with wonder and amazement at the size of the whale, at the company of Alex, who was indulging in this game and museum trip with him--  _ no, not just indulging, taking me out, wait, is this a date? What is-- but there are people, they can see us, they can see me in my disgusting glory-- _

 

“Hey, you gonna be alright,” Alex said, tapping John’s shoulder. John turned to him, realizing that there were tear trails down his cheeks.

 

“It’s just so beautiful,” John whispered back, looking at the whale and waving his arms in its direction. “It’s so big, I just…” John trailed off, bringing his hands to his face and covering his mouth. He could feel Alex’s eyes boring into him, and he internally kicked himself. _You’re acting disgusting again, Jack._ _“Man up, Jack, you’re acting like a queer.” “It’s just a whale.” “Stop crying.” “Aw, is the f*g crying because the fishes gave him AIDS?” “Don’t touch that whale toy, Jack touched it!” Laughter. Hospital machines._

 

_ “Mama, look at that whale!” “Yes, Jack, I see it!” _

 

***

 

**8/4/92**

 

John wandered into the hospital room, gripping the book of sea life close to him. His mother laid on the bed, smiling at him.

 

“Come here, Jack,” she said, patting beside herself on the bed. John scrambled onto the bed, carefully making sure he avoided the IV poking into her arm and the bandage across her shoulder.

 

“I brought you our book,” John quietly said, and his mother smiled.

 

“Of course you did,” she said cheerfully. “Do you want to pick a page for me?” John shook his head.

 

“I’m scared, mama.”

 

“Why?”

 

“What if I see a shark? Like the one that bit you, and papa, and--” Before John knew it, he was choking on his tears.

 

**9/13/92**

 

He was crying in the middle of the video presentation at the museum with his class, there was a large shark and he was startled. The kids were taunting him, teasing him, and the teacher was trying to calm him down.

 

“Jack, don’t worry, it’s just a video, you’re safe.”

 

Nothing was working. Nothing was working.

 

**10/4/92**

 

“Mama?”

 

“Yes, Jack?”

 

“Why did the shark bite you and papa?”

 

“The shark was curious, and sharks use their mouths to explore the world. It was an accident.”

 

“So it wasn’t trying to eat you?”

 

“No, sweetie.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I’m positive.”

 

**9/15/01**

 

_ Mama always liked whales, _ he thought, putting a drawing of a leatherback turtle and a blue whale onto the blanket representing her body. The coffin was closed after that.

 

_ “Buenos noches, mi tortuga,” she said the night before she left to catch her flight to New York, then to Los Angeles. _

 

_ “Buenos noches, mi ballena.” _

 

***

 

“John?”

 

John shook his head as he sunk down to his knees, softly crying into his hands.  _ Stop acting so gay, Alex will laugh at you. _ He closed his eyes, refusing to look at Alex.

 

“John,” Alex said, much closer than John remembered. “John, can I touch you?”

 

John nodded, and he felt arms wrap around his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you out of the walkway, alright?” John nodded, and began to stand. Alex took a hold of his upper arms and steered him to the right, and John felt his shins hit some sort of bench.

 

“Hey, let’s sit down, alright?” John turned around and sat down, feeling Alex sit down next to him. John took his hands away from his face, wiping his eyes on the back of his hands. He stared at his knees and breathed,  _ In, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five. _ He sat there, breathing. Alex sat beside him, watching carefully. After several minutes, John straightened his back, feeling the strain of his back muscles and spine. He sighed, resting his hands over his face again, pressing in on his tear ducts with his fingertips. He sniffled and let his hands down, his eyes closed gently as he felt the burning sensation from crying dissipate. He finally opened his eyes and looked at his knees.

 

“John,” Alex whispered, and John squeezed his eyes shut.  _ Damnit, he saw all of that _ . John stood up and attempted to walk away, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

“ _ John _ ,” Alex pleaded, and John turned back to look at him. Alex looked concerned, worried, and confused, and John fully turned his body towards him.

 

“Yes, Alex,” he slowly and deliberately replied.

 

“Do you want to go home?”

 

John sighed and looked at the floor. “I’m sorry--”

 

“Don’t be,” Alex said, rubbing his thumb against John’s shoulder as he let go. “Maybe on a day with less people?”

  
John nodded, and he let Alex guide him through the flurry of people, through the doors into the subway, into a train that was now filled with people, so many people,  _ They can see me, they can see my f*g ass being gay on the subway _ , and the next thing he knew he was being handed off to Hercules, and then he saw darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have a love affair with the AMNH.
> 
> Translations:  
> Buenos noches, mi tortuga: Goodnight, my turtle.  
> Buenos noches, mi ballena: Goodnight, my whale.
> 
> You can find me at @rambleton and @laramidianphantoms on tumblr!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Hercules have a small heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, having my AO3 fic be my NNWM challenge is actually helping me write it. Go figure. Although it's not beta'd for now, and since looking it over I'm realizing some very weird inconsistencies throughout the entire "When So Many Have Died" series that I need to iron out.
> 
> As a continued reminder, Hercules hasn't come out, although there's a moment where it's clear that Marie Knows. Also, John is still stuck in flashback hell. He probably will be for a little while...

**Chapter Seven**

 

John woke up to the smell of chocolate chip cookies and Marie’s singing voice in the room over. He sat up slowly, letting his mind slowly wake up again. His eyes felt swollen and heavy, and his nose was congested. He sniffled, and Marie’s voice stopped. John heard footsteps approaching and saw Marie stick her head in from the doorway, and she smiled.

 

“Good afternoon,  _ mon chou _ ,” she softly said as she walked into the room. John looked around in an attempt to identify the room. There were rugby posters lining the walls, with a few photos of mountains and a mysteriously pretty white building in the forefront.

 

“Where am I,” John tentatively asked.

 

“You’re in Hercules’ apartment,” Marie replied. Her hair was braided along the side and hung over her shoulder, and John got a better look at the light purple hairties as she sat down on the bed at his feet.

 

“Why am I in here,” John yawned, sniffling again.

 

“Hercules brought you back after whatever happened at the museum,” Marie said, tilting her head. John noticed a small amount of flour along her jawline.

 

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that.”

 

“No need to apologize, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Marie’s eyes were filled with concern, and then a timer beeped. She stood up, smiling. “I better go get those cookies.”

 

As Marie quickly rushed out of the room, she called out to someone else in the apartment. A feminine voice responded, although John couldn’t tell who exactly it was. He went ahead and kicked his legs off of the side of the bed, and after a moment of hearing rustling in the kitchen he stood up. He walked out of the (surprisingly) tidy room and turned to the left, seeing the kitchen-living space lit up with lamps and a TV screen. The Manhattan skyline showed shards of the pink sky, and John cursed internally for sleeping for so long.

 

“Good evening, sleeping beauty,” Hercules said from her seat at the table. She appeared to be embroidering something, and was waving with her needle. John lightly smiled and waved back.

 

“ _ Ah ah aH AH AH AH, _ ” Marie cried out as she suddenly dropped a very hot cookie sheet of cookies onto the stove. John rushed over, and Marie flapped her hands at him.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she muttered, quickly turning on the kitchen’s sink to maximum cold water and placing her fingers under the stream.

 

“Okay, if you insist,” John said, backing away. He looked back to Hercules, who was chuckling and putting down her embroidery.

 

“Do you want me to put the cookies on the drying rack,” she asked, walking over to the counter and picking up a metal spatula.

 

“Yes, that would be great,  _ mon frere _ ,” Marie replied, and Hercules loudly cleared her throat. Marie looked back, raised her eyebrows, and grimaced.

 

“Oh, sorry Hercules, I thought for a moment you were Thomas.”

 

“It’s alright,” Hercules replied, and John raised an eyebrow. Hercules rolled her eyes, and began scooping cookies from the pan onto the cooling rack. John leaned back against the wall, watching the cookies being moved and the way Marie dried her hands on a paper towel. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened just before he woke up in Hercules’ bed.

 

_ Museum, Alex, whales…  _ Oh.

 

“Alex probably thinks I’m fucking crazy,” John muttered, covering his eyes with his fingers.  _ I totally freaked out and he never wants to see me again. _

 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hercules responds. John peeks through his fingers, searching for some sort of shame or pity on her face, but all he sees is concern. He slowly lowers his hands.

 

“What would you say then?”

 

“Well, Alexander is, how you say--” Marie is interrupted by a light elbow to the gut by Hercules.

 

“Alex is concerned,” Hercules finishes.

 

“Concerned?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, from what he told me, you just kinda curled up in a ball and started sobbing when you saw the blue whale.” Hercules was now turned towards John. “He had no idea what was going on, and he thinks that he did something.”

 

“Oh God, no, he didn’t do anything,” John quicly interjects. “No, he was fine. It was me, it was all on me…” He trails off, staring at anything besides Hercules. The shame of existing is rising again, and he distracts himself with an uneven part of the moulding on the windowsill across the room. He doesn’t notice the look that Marie and Hercules give each other, or how long the silence between them all stretches.

 

***

 

**2/18/02**

 

John is in Steuben’s office again, grading written homework assignments about STD’s and doing his best to not tear some of the essays he’s reading into shreds. As he glosses over more words detailing how the Reagan Administration refused to fund research into AIDS, someone knocks on the office door. He looks up and looks down again as he sees Andre  stride in.

 

“Hey there,” Andre cheerfully says, stepping in. John waved, pulling the cap off of a red pen with his teeth and circling a particularly abysmal sentence he felt injected the essay with personal bias. He refused to look up at Andre as he leaned on the doorframe.

 

“So, uh, have you seen Coach Steuben anywhere today?”

 

John briefly glanced toward the doorway, then at Andre, then back at the door. “Last I saw him he was heading to teach his gym class, like he always does.”

 

“Ah, okay, do you know when he’ll be back?”

 

“Probably a few minutes?”

 

“Cool, thanks, I’ll probably just wait here,” Andre replied, sitting down in the chair next to John’s desk. John looked back to his papers, glancing briefly at Andre. He was wearing a white and red baseball cap, one that pulled his hair enough away from his face to show his jawline. John looked back at the essay. For a minute, the only sound between them was the clock’s arms ticking and the steady scribble of John’s pen as he scribbled a note next to the sentence he had circled.

 

_ “Using ‘I’ statements doesn’t add to your argument, if anything it makes your argument more sloppy.” _

 

He leaned back to continue reading the essay, and Andre cleared his throat. John looked up, then looked back down. He didn’t want to spend too long gazing into his eyes, or admiring his hair, or thinking about kissing his lips.

 

“Hey,” Andre said, leaning forward against the desk. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing, I’m just focusing on my work,” John replied, looking up at Andre.

 

“You seem to do that a lot.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Any chance I could… interrupt?” Andre cocked an eyebrow, and John felt his heart jump in his throat.

 

“With what?” John could feel every hair in his body, and he gripped his pen tighter.

 

“Just a question, or two,” Andre smoothly replied as he leaned back. “Namely, why weren’t you at Martha’s party?”

 

John shrugged. “I was busy taking care of my siblings. You know how it is.”

 

Andre nodded. “Fair enough.” John looked back at the essay in front of him, scanning the next few lines after his note for more potential errors.

 

“I just, you know,” Andre said, shifting forward again, looking at the wall. “I wanted to see you there.”

 

John sighed. “I… kinda wanted to be there?” John glanced up at Andre, who was looking at him as well.

 

“So… why weren’t you?”

 

“Like I said, I was watching my siblings,” John replied. “I can’t exactly get out of watching them.” Not that he was going to tell Andre that his father had wanted him to go find a cute girl to go on a date with that night. Especially since John didn’t want to find a cute girl since he already found a cute guy.

 

“Fair enough,” Andre shrugged. There were a few moments of silence as John finished editing the essay. Andre nervously opened and closed his phone a few times between biting his nails and readjusting his baseball cap. Suddenly, Steuben strode into the room, muttering under his breath.

 

**“Das kinder--”**

 

“Yo Coach,” Andre said, standing up as Steuben stopped suddenly, turning towards Andre.

 

“Ah, Andre! How was your weekend?”

 

“Great! I just wanted to double-check that we’re doing the food drive still, since there were some issues with the soccer team doing things…” Andre spoke to Steuben, and John tuned them out as he filled out an overall rubric for the essay he was grading. As he was stapling it to the essay, Steuben tapped the desk, near his arm. John turned and smiled.

 

“Hi Steuben, here’s that one student’s essay,” he said, giving the essay to Steuben. Steuben grimaced as he picked up the essay and read over the rubric, occasionally sucking in air as he skimmed over specific parts.

 

“Ah, this one was  _ bad _ ,” Steuben muttered.

 

“You’re telling me,” John replied, leaning back in his chair. “Is there anything else you need me to tear apart for you?”

 

“Nah, not for today, thankfully,” Steuben replied, looking at John. “You’re free to do whatever!”

 

“Sweet,” John replied, smiling as he bent over and started pulling his sketchbook out of his backpack.

 

“Well, I gotta get back to watching the students, will you be working with the student board for the fundraiser, Andre?”

 

“I’ll reach out to them, since soccer is ditching,” Andre replied.

 

“Good man,” Steuben replied. John heard a shoulder being clapped, and as he sat back up with his sketchbook he saw Steuben striding out of the room and down the hall. John grabbed a pencil from on the desk and opened up his sketchbook, and began to draw a line when he heard Andre clear his voice. John turned around, and Andre was standing fairly close.

 

“Well, I gotta go, but I hope I’ll see you soon,” Andre said, smiling.

 

“Yeah, hope to see you soon,” John replies, smiling back. He made eye contact with Andre, and couldn’t look away. Andre looked at the ground, and then back up at John, and then quickly leaned in, grabbed John’s jaw, and pressed their lips together. John felt his hand being gently pushed open by Andre’s other hand and a piece of paper was placed into his palm.

 

The kiss ended before John had any time to properly react, and before John was fully aware of what was going on, Andre had walked out of the office. John sat back for a moment, attempting to calm his racing heart.  _ He kissed me, again, why does he keep kissing me _ . It took a moment for him to remember the paper in his hand, and when he did he fumbled to open it up and look at it.

 

_ Wanna help with the food drive? _

_ Text me. 843-555-0174 _

_ ;) _

 

John opened up his phone, typing in the number.

 

**John here, where do you want to meet for the food drive?**

 

***

 

It isn’t until a small plate of cookies is being gently pushed against his chest that he comes back to reality. John took the plate of cookies and smiled at Marie, who was looking at him curiously.

 

“ _ Mon chou _ , you keep fading in and out,” she said, frowning slightly. “Can you tell us what’s going on?”

 

John shrugged. “Nothing really, just stressed out, you know?”

 

Marie huffed. “If it’s your father again--”

 

“Not my father, not this time,” John replied, sighing. “Just… past stuff. Don’t really wanna talk about it.”

 

Marie continued to watch John eat his cookies, until a jazzy piano ringtone interrupted her concentration. She cursed quietly.

 

“Hold on, I gotta grab that. Herc!” She called out as she ran away to pick up what John presumed was a phone. He shrugged, setting down the plate on the counter. He leaned against it and sighed. Hercules wandered over to a cabinet and pulled down a glass bottle, and two small shot glasses. John looked up.

 

“What’s that for,” he dryly asked, and Hercules shrugged.

 

“Figured you’d want something to unfrazzle your nerves,” Hercules said. As she uncapped the bottle, the smell of vodka hit the air. John stood up a little straighter.

 

“Nah, probably not right now,” John said, pushing back against memories of his father. “I haven’t had any real food, and honestly I just want to sleep.”

 

Hercules cocked an eyebrow in his direction, then shrugged again and capped the bottle without pouring out any vodka for John or herself.

 

“Totally understandable,” she said. She put the bottle and glasses away and turned toward John. He was staring at the linoleum tile beneath his feet, light tan with white borders along the tile pieces.  _ I don’t want to make any terrible decisions. I don’t want to hurt anyone again. _

 

“I was being serious earlier, though,” Hercules said, and John looked up.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“About Alex being concerned,” Hercules said. She opened up her phone, glancing at it for a moment. “Just got a text, he wants to know if you’re okay.”

 

John shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“But are you okay right now?”

 

John thought for a moment.  _ Am I okay? _ Logically, he knew he was probably not, that the memories that haunted him were going to interrupt more than just his essentially non-existent dating life eventually. But he also knew, somewhat logically, that he couldn’t just “get help” for his issues without his father finding out, and he didn’t want his father finding out about John’s gay lifestyle, or that he saw aspects of his father’s behavior as abusive.

 

“I mean, short answer no? But the long answer isn’t something that can really be helped with,” John said after a moment. Hercules nodded, texting something back to who John presumed was Alex.

 

“I know that feel,” Hercules said, closing her phone. “Told Alex you were working on it.”

 

“Thanks,” John replied.

 

“I mean, I think he would want to hear it from you,” Hercules said, and John looked up.

 

“But… even after this afternoon?”

 

Hercules gently guffawed. “Alex has been planning the museum date since last week’s party. He was asking Laf and I about where to take you, where to best wow and amaze you.”

 

John looked down at the ground, scuffing his shoes.

 

“I mean, after he helped me bring you into the apartment while Laf was in class--”

 

“Wait,” John interrupted, snapping his head up. “He helped you get me here?”

 

“Of course. He was worried sick, he wanted to make sure you got to a safe place. And while he knows me, he doesn’t know me  _ that _ well.” Hercules walked over to the cookie pan and picked one up, since they were finally cool enough to pick up. “And it took Marie coercing Thomas to get into an argument with him to finally get Alex out of here.. Which is probably why she’s on the phone, actually.”

 

John shook his head in disbelief. “He can’t be this attached to me,” he gripped his arms. He could feel the shaking start up again. “It never ends well.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Hercules was looking at him, he could feel her eyes boring into his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing.

 

***

 

“What the hell, John?!”   
  
“I… I didn’t know what to do--”

 

“You texted him for months! How long has it been?”

 

“Martha, I--”

 

“No, stop. This is just as much your fault as it is his. I cannot believe this.”

 

“I didn’t mean to--”

 

“Intention means nothing!”

 

A door slam.

 

“Get out of my house!”

 

***

 

“Hey, John, hey, listen to me dude,” Hercules was saying through the fog.

 

“Martha…” John muttered, opening his eyes. They felt swollen, and he could feel tear tracks down his cheeks. He could see Marie out of the corner of his eye, holding a phone to her ear and looking at Hercules. Hercules turned to her and mouthed… something. Something that seemed to make Marie relax and leave the room. John sighed, a hiccup interrupting his exhalation.

 

“Hey, dude, it’s okay,” Hercules said, resting her hand on his arm.

 

“No, it’s not, the last time this happened people got hurt and I can’t--”

 

“John, you didn’t hurt any of us,” Hercules said, and John ground his teeth together.

 

“No, not the panicking. The… The…” John didn’t know how to complete the sentence. He did his best to forget everything that had happened two years ago. He transferred high schools to escape the mess that was him and Andre, he went to school so far away from Martha, from Andre, from his family to forget what had happened.  _ I can’t let it happen again _ .

 

“John, it’s okay. Whatever happened then won’t happen again, I promise,” Hercules said.

 

“You can’t promise that,” John snapped. “Promises aren’t real.”

 

Hercules huffed for a moment. “You may be right, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try. But please, tell me what’s going on in there.”

 

John sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to fight off the memories that threatened to eat him whole. Formulating sentences was hard, and he didn’t know how to handle telling anyone what had happened. About his mother, his father, high school, his shame, any of it. It was easier to try and forget.

 

“I can’t right now,” John finally whispered. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, whether it was yelling or disappointment. But he didn’t expect Hercules to sigh and stroke his arm.

 

“It’s okay if you can’t,” she finally said. John opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked back, her eyes filled with concern. “Just… let me, or Marie, or, hell, even Alex, know if we can help in any way, alright?”

 

John nodded.

 

“And, when you can, let your ‘angry ham’ know what you need from him. Because right now it sounds like you either need some really good friendship or some space.” Hercules smiled weakly. “And God knows he’s willing to provide.”

 

“That’s the problem,” John replied, and he shut his mouth.  _ That wasn’t supposed to come out _ . Hercules looked at him weirdly, an eyebrow cocked. John sighed again.  _ There’s no escaping it now, I guess. _

 

“I’m not sure he’d want to only provide that.” John looked down at his feet again as he finished the sentence.

 

“I mean, he’s doing all he can to not text you right now. My phone’s been blowing up, and he’s worried that he did something.”

 

“It wasn’t him,” John muttered. “I’m just… scared. And I was overwhelmed.”

 

Hercules thought for a moment, and John continued to stare at the ground.  _ Why is this happening to me? Why is someone who actually seems like a nice person getting attached to me? I’m going to ruin everything. _

 

“Do you think you can talk about why you were overwhelmed?” John shot his head up towards Hercules, who was standing in front of him now. “Like, is it something that you think you could talk about with Alex?”

 

“No,” John immediately replied. “It’s… not something other people have taken well.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It just… it wasn’t,” John snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He stood up to walk away, but Hercules grabbed his shoulder.

 

“John, you can’t keep doing this.”

 

“I can’t talk about it, you wouldn’t care.”

 

“I wouldn’t  _ care _ ?” Hercules turned John toward her, frowning. “John, I know we’ve only known each other through Marie and through occasional interactions, but please, you can’t just keep all of… whatever is going on inside of yourself.”

 

“I told people and they hurt me, I’m not going to make the same mistake again,” John replied, shaking her hand off of his shoulder. “I’ve kept it in for this long, it’s not that terrible.” He walked into the living room part of the common area and sat down on the couch, staring at his shoes again.

 

“That’s what everyone tells themselves, though,” Hercules said, sitting down on the other side. “Trust me, I’ve seen it before.” There was a beat of silence. “I’ve lived it before.”

 

John looked up at Hercules, who was busy fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

 

“You gotta tell someone… eventually. Regardless of what it is,” she said after a moment. She looked up at him. “It doesn’t have to be now, it doesn’t have to be to anyone here. But you can’t keep everything inside forever.”

 

John sighed and look outside of the window. The sun was hiding behind buildings, and the sky was starting to go from blue to light shades of orange as the sun set. He closed his eyes.

 

_ Mama would want me to tell someone. She always wanted me to talk to her. _

 

John opened his eyes and looked at Hercules. She was looking at the stitches in her skirt’s hem, and appeared to be counting the strings.

 

“We went into the Hall of Ocean Life,” John began, and Hercules looked up attentively. John looked down at the fabric of the couch, light blue with green string stitching in and out of the blue. 

 

“In the hall, there’s a large blue whale diorama. My mother…” John sighed, feeling tears sting his eyelids again.  _ In and out, come on. _ “My mother loved whales.”

 

He waited for Hercules to say something, anything, but when he looked at her she was still looking at him. He took a breath, and continued.

 

“Before she married my dad, she was in school to study marine biology so she could help in conservation efforts. And as a kid, she would take me to museums and explain to me how whales evolved, how whales were important to ocean ecosystems, how whales became her favorite animals.” John smiled slightly. “Every year, for her birthday, I would always draw a whale in a birthday card for her. She kept them lined up on her bedside table. And at family outings, when I would get bored of talking to all the snuffy adults, she would join me in saying as many whale puns as we could in a conversation before someone got mad at us.” John chuckled. “You could say it was a ‘whale’ of a time.”

 

Hercules smiled after John chuckled again, and John lightly bit his lip. He looked back at the couch. The green stitches looked like little ripples in a large blue ocean.

 

“When I was six… my parents went on a boating trip while on a cruise. They were looking for whales. And a shark attacked them. My father was fine, but my mother had to be hospitalized. I had nightmares for years about sharks, about them attacking her, about the blood in the water, about…” John trailed off, he could feel himself starting to shake. He closed his eyes.

 

_ “Tortuga, remember the whales? Remember how big they are? Remember how safe they are from the sharks?” _

 

_ “Yes, mama, but you weren’t safe.” _

 

_ “But I’m here, I’m alive. I’m safe now.” _

 

“She would tell me about the whales, about how they were safe from sharks, when the nightmares would wake me up,” John finally said, eyes still closed. “She would have me trace the scars on her shoulder and tell me about how some whales have scars from when they were attacked by large animals, and that the scars told stories about their past. She said that the scars brought her closer to her favorite animals, and that she held nothing against the shark that attacked her.” John finally opened his eyes. “It took me a long time to understand that, though, without my mother there, and when kids in my class found out I was scared of sharks…”

 

“...they bullied you?” Hercules tentatively asked. John looked up at her and nodded slightly, waiting for what he thought would be laughter. But there was no laughter. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she leaned forward.

 

“I’m so sorry, John,” she said after a moment. “I mean, kids suck, but also that’s a pretty scary thing to have been witness to.”

 

“I mean, I wasn’t there,” John said, shrugging. “Just like I wasn’t there when she died.”

 

“She…”

 

“She was going to Los Angeles for a workshop on whale anatomy. Her flight was the one that crashed into the Pentagon on 9/11.” John picked at one of the green stitches. He had memorized the details of what had happened as best as he could. He could tell you details about the plane, about the schedules that day. He had forgotten his reactions, of course, to everything that happened. But he knew that if he remembered he would regret it.

 

After a few seconds of silence, Hercules talked again. “Oh my god.”

 

“That’s what most people say,” John replied, leaning back and looking out the window. “I mean, I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt, but…” John trailed off. “I mean, Marie has probably told you enough about my father that I don’t need to tell you.”

 

“I mean, not really, but you also don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” Hercules said. John looked at her, cocking an eyebrow. She looked back at him. “I’m serious.”

 

“I’ve already told you this much, though,” John said, “I might as well tell you the rest.”

 

“But do you want to?”

 

John opened his mouth to reply, but then he closed it.  _ Do I really want to? Do I really want to tell her everything right now? _ He looked at Hercules, who was looking at him still.  _ I’m still so tired _ .

 

“Maybe not today,” he said after a moment. Hercules nodded.

 

“I understand, kiddo. I’m proud of you for saying what you have said, though,” she continued. “And, I mean, maybe one day you can tell other people. But you never  _ have _ to.” Hercules leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “But in my experience, there’s always something you want to tell to someone. It’s always nice to be heard.”

 

“Thanks,” John replied smiling. Hercules looked down at him and smiled as well.

 

“Now come here, it looks like you need a hug,” Hercules said, stretching her arms out. John chuckled, and leaned forward into the hug. They hugged for a few seconds, John smelling the light sugary vanilla smell of Hercules’ shirt. It was calming, and he let himself relax more into the hug. His heart rate seemed to be slowing to a rate that he hadn’t been able to get it to since his mother had died, and he felt grateful for it. He smiled and put his face into the shirt. Hercules chuckled and held him closer.

 

“You’ve needed a hug for a while, haven’t you?”

 

John nodded into her shoulder.

 

“Take all the hug you need, then,” she said, and John let himself relax more.

 

He lost track of the time, because next thing he knew Marie was clearing her throat from the kitchen. John let go of Hercules and turned, smiling when he saw her by the fridge.

 

“Hi Marie,” he said timidly.

 

“Looks like our little fighter is feeling better,” she said, walking from the kitchen to the couch. Hercules nodded, looking between John and Marie.

 

“I would say so,” Hercules said. Marie smiled and plopped herself on the floor in front of John.

 

“So,  _ mon copain _ , I was thinking of doing a pizza-and-game night, but I wanted you and Herc’s input,” she said. John saw Hercules perk up out of the corner of his eye, and he chuckled.

 

“I want pizza,” she said, and Marie laughed.

 

“I figured, since Friday is usually pizza night, but I was more discussing the potential… company,” Marie said, looking back at John. John felt his heart rate pick up again, and he cursed internally. Marie licked her lips, looking at Hercules for a split second, and then back at John.

 

“You see, I might… have… invited Alex over for pizza?” Marie reached out for John’s knee as he reflexively threw himself back against the couch. He groaned in agony.

 

“Now, I can tell him something came up, and I can also tell him to not ask anything--”

 

“He’s still asking about me? After I fucked up our date?” John had nearly forgotten about the panic attack, and about how he freaked out in front of Alex. And now he was going to have to dinner with him, if Marie and Hercules weren’t gonna let him leave.  _ I would rather be shamed by Alex without an audience, if possible. _

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” both Marie and Hercules said at the same time.

 

“He even took the time to diffuse an argument with Thomas in order to ask him if  _ he _ knew anything about how you were doing, which is why the phone call happened,” Marie said, nodding towards the hallway. John bit his lip and looked at her.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Yes,” she replied. “John, he is worried and wants to make sure you’re okay. And while both Herc and I have reassured him, and Thomas has tried to argue with him on the merits of him seeking out an answer when it’s already been given, he still wants to know.”

 

John sighed and looked at Hercules. She shrugged.

 

“I mean, I don’t think it would hurt if you told him that it brought up some memories,” she said after a moment. “God knows we’ve all got some.”

 

John shrugged, and looked between Marie and Hercules. He sighed, before mumbling, “Do you think it would be good for him to see that I’m okay?”

 

“I mean, I think so, but it’s up to you,” Marie said, looking at John. “You’re the one that basically passed out when he got you out of the subway.”

 

John nodded slightly, looking down at where Marie was resting her hand on his knee.

 

“And we can always say that something came up,” Hercules said. “Like, I got violently ill, or--”

 

“I’ll survive,” John said, looking up at Hercules. “I’ll be okay if he comes over for pizza-and-games.”

 

Marie grinned and stood up. “Great! Hercules, we gotta get started on the dough, since Thomas will be bringing him over.”

 

“Okay,” Hercules said as she shoved herself up from the couch. She turned to John, reaching out her hand. “Wanna help make the dough?”

 

John shrugged, taking the hand. “Don’t see why not.”

  
Hercules smiled as she dragged him to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are loved and appreciated!
> 
> Hit me up at @laramidianphantoms and/or @rambleton on Tumblr to scream about Hamilton or writing, and if you want to add me as a writing buddy on NNWM I'm aurusallos!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza is made, games are played, and confidences are given. Also, lots of hurt/comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of suicide, internalized gaslighting, lots of sad memories, a panic attack, and other characters (read: Thomas) doing shitty things as a reaction to another person talking about their trauma, also Thomas being a gross predatory pile of shit (That part is in Goog Translate French, so you can just skim over it). Also, there is a lot of Halo played in this chapter.
> 
> Also, Google Translate French and Spanish, especially for the first chunk of the chapter. And if you haven't read the brief Marie and Thomas story I wrote briefly explaining their sibling relationship, you can read that here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5667190
> 
> Also also: continued reminder that Hercules is a closeted transmasculine person! I promise there will be a story about their transition at some point soon!

**Chapter Eight**

 

Surprisingly enough, with the memories and tales John had of his mother, he couldn’t remember ever having as much as he had while making bread dough in Hercules’ kitchen. There was something wonderful about the Aretha Franklin impressions Hercules kept whipping out while waiting for the sky blue Kitchen Aid to finish stirring in the most recent ingredient, and by the time it was time to let the dough rise for an hour John had nearly forgotten that Thomas and Alex were on their way.

 

And then there was rapid-fire French.

 

“ _ Marie! _ ” Thomas barked into the hall as he opened the door. Marie, who had been sitting on the couch watching Hercules and John make the dough, stood up, rushing past the kitchen.

 

“ _ Thomas!  _ _ Avez-vous apporté le X-Box?” _

 

_ “Oui, mais je ne garde pas ton ‘petit lion’!” _ Thomas sounded irritated, and it was when a third voice added into the French that John remembered that Alex was coming over.

 

_ “Dit le dégoûtant. Vous êtes obsédé par un enfant!” _

 

_ “Elle a seize ans,” _ Thomas cried, just as he walked past the kitchen. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, his left hand firmly holding onto the handle. His other hand was sifting through his open afro.

 

_ “Et vous êtes un adulte”  _ Alex yelled, fists clenched.

 

_ “Nous ne parlons pas de cela maintenant,”  _ Marie barked as she came into view. She pointed to Alex, saying, _ “Nous pouvons honte Thomas plus tard,”  _ and pointed to Thomas, saying, “ _ Tu devrais avoir honte. _ ”

 

John turned to Hercules, whose face looked confused. “Yo Thomas, what did you do this time,” she asked, but there was a ferocious  _ hush! _ from behind John. He turned back around and saw that Marie had put her fingers on both Thomas and Alex’s lips.

 

“I said  _ non _ , and that is the last of it,” she stated, “ _ D’accord? _ ”

 

Alex looked between Thomas and Marie, and John could tell that he was internally scowling. For what reason, John had very little clue, other than it revolved around Thomas, and that the irritated look Alex was giving Marie was doing  _ things _ to his heart, although he couldn’t tell if the palpitations were out of adoration or fear.

 

“ _ Bien _ ,” Alex huffed, and Marie let her fingers down.

 

“ _ Remercie le gentil, le seigneur gracieux _ ,” Thomas sighed.

 

“No more French, or else you get no pizza,” Hercules said, and Thomas stuck his tongue out at her.

 

“Fine, mom.” Thomas moved past the kitchen and to the television on the opposite wall of the couch as Marie looked past John and to Hercules, a concerned look across her face. John paid no mind, however, since Alex was now leaning against the wall, his fists in the pockets of the hoodie he had worn on the date. His hair was out of its bun, likely undone while arguing with Thomas about… whatever it was they had been arguing about, and he was staring at the cookies.

 

“Hey John,” Alex said gently, and John’s heart lept up into his throat. All he could get out was a strangled “Hmm?” as Alex stood up straight.

 

“Can you grab me a cookie?”

 

John turned toward the cooling rack, and  _ When had there suddenly been so many cookies?  _ He grabbed a few for Alex, and when he turned back around Alex was only a few steps away. John stuck his cookie-filled hand out towards Alex, who took them from him.

 

“Thanks,” Alex said, shoving two cookies into his mouth. He looked like a ridiculously wide-mouthed duck, and John couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up. Alex attempted to smile but the cookies blocked his cheek muscles, and his struggles made John laugh more.

 

“It’s so good to hear you laughing,  _ mon amie _ ,” Marie said, turning around to face the boys, and Marie stifled a snort when she saw Alex’s cookie face. He looked between Marie and John, eyebrow cocked up as if he wasn’t aware of what he was doing.

 

“Eat those cookies before I eat them for you,” Thomas taunted, walking over to the kitchen. He placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder and drew the cookies out of his mouth, and Alex flinched so hard that John reached out to make sure he didn’t fall over. Before he could draw his hands back, however, Alex pulled himself into John’s arms.

 

“Save me from the monster,” Alex jokingly cried out, and John blinked a few times as Thomas started chuckling as he set the cookies down onto the counter. Marie and Hercules jokingly fawned over John, the comments about ‘Alex’s great protector’ and ‘knight in shining armor’ fading behind the rising noise of his own rapid heartbeat. Within a few seconds, though, he found his arms empty again, Alex a few steps away, and Thomas was complaining about the TV to Hercules. 

 

“Yo, I can’t find where the cord-thingies go into the screen-thingy,” Thomas said, and Hercules’ eyeroll birthed a shit-eating grin on Thomas’ face.

 

“You goof,” she said, huffing off and dragging Thomas with her. Marie followed, cussing out her brother.

 

That left John and Alex in the kitchen, Alex taking a bite out of one of his discarded cookies, John attempting to smoothly fold his arms. The small moment of Alex being in his arms was only just catching up to him, and now that Alex was both too far away to hold and too aware of John’s existence to jump back into his arms, John let himself pretend that folding his arms up was a good enough replacement.

 

Alex was watching as Marie and Thomas tormented each other over by the television, and John watched the way his jaw moved as he chewed the cookie.  _ I could just reach out and kiss his cheek if I wanted to. _

 

_ No, we’re not going to do that. You’ll ruin him. _

 

Alex glanced back and smiled at John, and John half-smiled back. He looked down at the ground as Alex turned to look back at Marie attempting to thread an X-Box controller cord through Thomas’ afro, while Hercules was bent over trying to connect all the wires together. It was a few moments before either of them spoke.

 

“So, are you feeling better?”

 

John looked back up at Alex who was now fully turned in his direction. John read his face, only finding concern and care. No hints of mocking or teasing.  _ Then again, the pity could be hiding that from me. _

 

“I’m fine now, yeah,” John said, flashing a quick smile, and looking over at the TV crew, who seemed to have successfully gotten things plugged in. A green-and-black menu was up, and Thomas was triumphantly plugging a controller into the X-Box that John assumed was in the messenger bag from earlier.

 

Alex looked between John and the X-Box, then back to John.

 

“So, uh, what exactly is gonna be happening here?”

 

John smiled and took a glance at Alex, before going back to watching Marie and Hercules fussing over untangling the controller cords. “So, every now and then, Hercules and Marie decide to host a pizza-and-game night. Usually after a particularly stressful test, if Thomas is involved. We gather around, hand-make pizza, and play Halo multiplayer games while waiting for the pizza dough to rise, or while waiting for the pizzas to bake, and after the pizza is gone we usually gather around and watch Thomas play through the game as best he can.”

 

John looked back to Alex, who was looking back at Thomas, who was putting the Halo disc into the X-Box.

 

“Halo. I’ve heard it’s a good game,” Alex said, and John fake-coughed out of surprise. Alex turned back to him. “What?”

 

“You haven’t played Halo before?”

 

“Well, no, I don’t exactly have an X-Box,” Alex said. “Most of my foster families didn’t have the money or time to waste on things like video games.”

 

John snapped his slightly open mouth closed, looking down at the counter. “Right,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” He looked back up, 

 

“Meh, it’s whatever,” Alex replied, shrugging. “Now I’m in college with enough people who seem to be willing to share a timesuck with me, might as well take advantage.” Alex walked out of the kitchen and towards the couch, where Thomas was firmly planted in the couch. John timidly followed, smiling as Marie strode over to him.

 

“You got it all set up, I’m guessing,” John commented, and Marie rolled her eyes.

 

“No thanks at all to Thomas,” she said, staring in her brother’s direction. Thomas looked over and stuck his tongue out. Marie rolled her eyes, looking back to John. “But yes, we got it set up.”

 

“Alright, let’s get this started,” Hercules called out, sitting down next to Thomas. She patted the couch next to her. “Alex, come sit here with me!”

 

Alex scurried over and sat down, and Marie went to the chair that was next to the couch. John looked around, but his usual gaming chair was where Marie was currently, and he stood there awkwardly as Marie and Hercules grabbed their controllers. Alex looked up at John and frowned a little.

 

“You can take my seat, if you want,” he said, and John shook his head.

 

“Nah, I can stand.”

 

“And play Capture The Flag? Whaaaaaaaaaaa,” Thomas interjected. He turned to Alex. “Scootch. We’ll make John fit.”

 

Alex rolled his eyes but scootched as best he could towards his end of the couch, although the space left between Alex and Hercules left lots to be desired.

 

“I’ll just sit on the floor in front of Hercules,” John said, and he walked over and sat down, leaning his back against the couch between Hercules and Alex. Thomas turned towards them.

 

“Now, who’s gonna share the controls with Alex,” Thomas asked, and John shrugged.

 

“I get vertigo from a few of the levels anyway, might as well just take one for the team,” John said, and he grabbed the last control from in front of Thomas.

  
  


It didn't take long for Thomas to set up a round of Capture The Flag in the Blood Gulch map, and with Marie on his team John found competing against Thomas was not as hard as it could have been. He found calm in playing and fighting over the flag, with many curse words flying between friends. Every now and then, John looked back at Alex, who was keenly watching the game unfold.

 

After Hercules captured the last flag in the ten minute long game, Thomas cheered.

 

“Beat that, fuckers,” he shouted, and Hercules rolled her eyes.

 

“No need for the theatrics,” she muttered, but she grinned as Thomas ruffled her hair. John turned around to Alex to hand him the controller.

 

“Here,” he said, and Alex took a hold of it.

 

“Sweet, how do I use it?”

 

A collective groan filled the room. The next game was essentially 25 minutes of Alex jumping when he meant to shoot, shooting when he meant to drive a vehicle, and accidentally throwing away grenades (many of which were stuck onto Thomas’ back) when he tried to jump. In all, the experience ended with Marie and Hercules beating Thomas and Alex, with the amount of deaths Thomas had experienced in the high 60’s range.

 

“I'm never playing on your team again,” he muttered as Alex passed the controller back to John.

 

“Well, good thing you don't have both me and John playing against you. He is particularly good at vehicular manslaughter,” Alex snarled back.

 

John had to admit, he had a point. The next 20 minutes were spent keeping Marie and Thomas away from their flag by doing donuts directly over their trodden in-game bodies, and a pause to the carnage was only found in the sweet sound of the dough alarm. Hercules paused the game for everyone, and she stood up.

 

“Alright, time to make the pizza!” She lunged over John’s head, and as everyone rushed up to join her, Alex tripped into John, knocking them both down onto the ground. John managed to trap Alex underneath his torso, and John rolled off as soon as he could. He thought he felt Alex grab his arms for a moment, but he shook off the feeling as he sat up to the side. He turned back to Alex, who looked concerned.

 

“Shit, you okay? Didn’t mean to knock you over,” Alex rambled, and John waved him off.

 

“T’was an accident,” he said, pushing himself off the ground. He extended his arm, hoping that Alex would grab it. Alex slapped his hands away, pushing himself up.

 

“ _ Petit lion, mon chou,  _ come decorate your pizza,” Marie said from the kitchen, and John and Alex walked over. Hercules was setting down the jars of tomato sauce, and Thomas was slicing up olives on a plate and bowl. The crowded scene was domestic, and John felt… at home.

 

***

 

**5/3/99**

 

It was a rough Wednesday for Henry Laurens.

 

“Goddamnit,” he yelled, and John pulled off his headphones to his CD player. He listened for approaching footsteps, and he prepared to hide away the electronics and put homework over his sketchbook. There was more angry footsteps, some more indiscernible yelling, and he heard the front door slam. He relaxed for a moment, then got up and wandered out of his room and found his way to the kitchen.

 

His mother was kneading bread dough.

 

“Mom,” he sighed, and he walked further into the room. Ellie looked up and smiled weakly.

 

“Hey John-boy,” she said. “Your father went to go pick up Jemmy and Junior from soccer, Martha’s at a friend’s house, and I’m here.”

 

“Making cinnamon rolls?”

 

“Apple tarts, excuse you,” Ellie replied, and John chuckled. After a moment, however, she added on, “and cinnamon rolls.”

 

“I don’t get why you make them every time Dad gets mad at you,” John said, walking over. Ellie shrugged, turning back to the dough. John knew that the conversation would get nowhere, and he was still not sure if his own internal anger at his father’s treatment of him and his siblings was warranted. He mentally shook the thought off, asking, “Do you want help with the tarts at all?”

 

“Sure, can you slice the apples?”

 

“Yeah,” John said as he approached the counter, grabbing one of the apples and the apple slicer. They worked in silence for a few minutes, preparing pans and stuffing the tarts and wrapping up the rolls. After John placed the trays into the oven, Ellie began to speak again.

 

“Your father wasn’t ready for me to be pregnant again,” she muttered. John turned to her, mouth gaping.

 

“You’re…”

 

“It’s been four months, didn’t want to announce it to anyone until we were sure.” Ellie looked to John with a sad smile.

 

“Wow.”

 

“You’re gonna have another sibling,  _ mi tortuga _ .”

 

“ _ Mama _ ,” he whispered, preparing to ask more questions, but then the front door opened. Within a few moments, Jemmy and Junior were running into the kitchen, tackling their mother with hugs.

 

“Mom! The coach said I could move to the upper division team,” Jemmy rattled on. John reached out to ruffle Jemmy’s hair to distract himself from his father’s looming presence in the entryway, and Jemmy grinned up at him.

 

“I’m gonna be on the same team that you were on before you graduated the junior squad!”

 

John chuckled and smiled. “Nice,” he hollowly said, refusing to let himself rant about how he had been so close to kicking himself out thanks to the racism he faced in the team. But Jemmy was much, much more white-passing than John would ever be, and probably would understand very little of what John would be saying. There was so much that Jemmy would never have to know, and John refused to taint his happy outlook on life. Junior was rattling on about a kicking drill he did in his practice to Ellie, and Henry walked over, kissing Ellie on the cheek. John looked away and did his best to focus on what Jemmy was saying.

 

“How are you doing,” John heard him mutter.

 

“Alright,” Ellie responded, half-smiling. Henry took her hand, and Jemmy interrupted John’s listening with more rambling about practice. After a few minutes of continued discussion about kicking drills, coaches, and team schedules, Henry cleared his throat.

 

“Alright, boys, I need to talk to your mother, privately,” he declared, and Jemmy and Junior whined. But after some careful nudging, Junior soon latched onto Jemmy, and they ran off to go outside. John followed, but before he left the kitchen he heard a small piece of the conversation starting up between Henry and Ellie.

 

“I’m sorry for getting mad earlier,” Henry muttered, and John heard a small kiss.

 

“You are forgiven,” Ellie replied, and John darted back up the stairs to his room, strided over to his desk, and uncovered his sketch of an angry man. He sunk into his chair and curled up on top of the drawing, cursing inbetween subdued tears.

 

_ God, why can’t I forgive him? Is there anything I need to forgive him for? Am I wrong for being angry at him? Is there something I’m doing wrong? How can my mother so easily forgive him? _

 

John silently ranted for a few minutes, until a calm, gentle voice called through the house.

 

“Kids! Dinner time,” Ellie’s voice echoed. Gentle footsteps climbed up the stairs and knocked on his door. “John-boy, it’s time for dinner.”

 

John waved a hand up. “Gimme a moment,” he muttered. A few seconds later, he felt his mother’s hands gently rubbing his shoulders.

 

“ _ Pequeña tortuga _ ,” she muttered quietly. “ _ Va estar bien _ .”

 

“ _ Estoy tan enojado con él, y no sé por qué _ ,” John quietly responded, sniffling afterwards.

 

“ _ Se le permite estar enojado, _ ” Ellie responded. There was a muffled call from Henry, and Ellie gently squeezed John’s shoulders.

 

“Come,  _ mijito _ , you need food,” she said, and John slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. Ellie let go of his shoulders and walked away a little distance. “I have to see if your sister is home, but please come eat with us.”

 

“I will,” John replied, and he turned his head and smiled at Ellie. Ellie weakly smiled back, and left the room, retreating back to the kitchen. And if it took a few more minutes of John clenching his fists before he went to sit at the table with his father, nobody had to know.

 

***

 

“Yo John,” Marie said, interrupting his thoughts. “How do you feel about chicken on your pizza?”

 

John blinked for a moment, and nodded. “I’m fine with that!” He smiled, and Marie smiled back.

 

“Coolio, that means you gotta fight Alex about that.” She pointed to where Alex was picking the chicken off of a pizza that Thomas was trying to put chicken bits on.

 

“Stop ruining his pizza,” Alex cried out, “Chicken is blasphemy!”

 

“Oh hush,” Thomas replied, “Chicken is better than pineapple!”

 

“Y’all need to stop,” John said, looking pointedly at Alex. “I like having chicken on pizza.”

 

Alex’s mouth gaped open, and Thomas huffed in triumph.

 

“But,” John said, “I also like pineapple with my chicken.” Thomas lost his smile, and Alex cocked an eyebrow.

 

“You can’t be serious,” Thomas said.

 

“Of course I’m not, get your pineapple off of my pizza,” he said, turning to Alex. “But also, if you wanna split this pizza just keep your pineapple off my side.”

 

“As long as you keep the chicken off of my side,” he replied, and John grinned.

 

“Naturally.”

 

Thomas sauntered off as John started rearranging the chicken so that it wasn’t on the side of the pizza that Alex started adorning with pineapple. They arranged in relative silence, with occasional pineapples ending up on John’s side of the pizza, and occasional chicken retaliation on Alex’s side. After Hercules put the pizzas in the oven, they jumped back into playing their game. The vehicular carnage ensued, and Alex must have noticed the increased erratic swerving John was doing in-game, because within a few minutes Alex’s fingers were combing through John’s hair, carding at thick locks and massaging his scalp. Somehow, even with the immense distraction that was Alex playing with his hair, John and Hercules managed to keep Marie and Thomas away from their flag, stealing a victory.

 

“Well, given that there’s only five more minutes until we have pizza out of the oven,” Hercules mused, “maybe do a quick five-minute Slayer game?”

 

Both Marie and Thomas cheered, and John handed the controller over to Alex.

 

“Uh, John, what exactly is Slayer,” he asked, taking the controller.

 

“Basically, you just try to kill as many people as you can,” John replied. Alex cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, settling into the couch. John sat down by his legs as the game started up, and Thomas immediately began striking down kills. They were on a wintertime map, with teleports between two very disparate bases. John was watching Alex’s quarter of the screen, watching how he was plotting out the places for hiding and sniping people away.

 

And then Alex fell off the ledge of the building after getting melee’d in the back by Thomas. And because Alex hadn’t died from Thomas, people weren’t ready for the announcer’s announcement of Alex’s death.

 

**_“SUICIDE.”_ **

 

Alex’s leg flinched against John’s back, and he could sense that something was wrong. Alex had stopped fiddling with the controller’s buttons, and when he looked back he saw how wide Alex’s eyes were.  _ Oh no, _ he thought, looking from Alex to the screen to Hercules and Marie, both of whom were glancing over at Alex while Thomas let out a little hoot of victory. After a moment, Alex respawned, and it took him a moment to continue playing. As Alex continued playing the game, John switched between watching his on-screen performance and what Alex was doing in person.

 

In game, Alex was direct and attacked everyone else head-on, initially resulting in a few deaths on his end. His real-life concentration on the game, on killing Thomas, Hercules, and Marie without mercy, was oddly terrifying. He stopped talking or responding to any of the banter that Marie was tossing at Thomas, and John noticed how Hercules was looking cautiously at Alex every few seconds. But in-game, he got a hold of a rocket launcher and a needler. And over the next three minutes, he succeeded in gaining enough kill points to win the game. As it concluded, he put down the controller, muttering, “gotta go to the bathroom,” and stepped over John’s legs as he left.

 

“Damn, didn’t know Alex had that in him,” Thomas muttered, stretching. Marie and Hercules shared a worried look, with Hercules standing.

 

John stood up as well, and looked at Hercules, who nodded slightly, stepping back so John could get past. He walked past Marie and Thomas, who were chatting in French. The oven’s alarm started ringing, and Marie clapped her hands.

 

“Pizza,” Marie cried out, standing up right behind John as he walked past. John felt her hand on his arm, and he turned to look at her.

 

“ _ Mon amie,  _ are you going to check on Alex?”

 

John nodded. “It seemed like something went wrong with the game.”

 

“Agreed. I’m going to help Herc with the pizza, but please make sure he’s safe,” she said. “For me.”

 

“Will do,” John replied, and he turned back to the hall. He stopped momentarily.

 

“Second door on the right,” Hercules said as she passed behind him. John looked back and gave a thumbs up, observing how Thomas was still sitting on the couch, stretching, as if he hadn’t noticed what had happened. He turned back and went down the hall, passing the open door to Hercules’ room and to the second door, which was mostly closed except for a very small sliver of darkness. John got close and knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open by a quarter inch.

 

“Alex?” John heard a slight thud, and a subdued gasp. “Marie wanted me to check on you,” John called gently, stomach suddenly lurching as he heard a soft sob. “Can I come in?”

 

There was a slight sniffle, and shuffling from behind the door. A few seconds later, the door opened another half inch, and John could see the light from the hall faintly reflecting off of Alex’s eye as he peered through the crack.

 

“Hey,” John said, taking a half-step forward. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Alex quickly said, and in a flash John placed his foot against the door before Alex could fully close it.

 

“You sure? You didn’t sound okay,” John said quietly. There was a moment, and a shuddering sigh from the small door crack. John stepped forward, placing his hand on the door frame.

 

“Hey,” he said, gently using his other hand to push the door slightly open. Alex seemed to retreat backwards as the door slightly opened, and John pulled it back to its original position next to his foot. “I won’t come in unless you want me to, I just want to make sure you’re gonna be okay, alright?”

 

There was a moment of relative silence, aside from Alex’s sniffles..

 

“Alex,” John said, “are you gonna be okay?”

 

Another moment interrupted by sniffles and hiccups. John sighed, resting his head against the doorframe. “I’m not going to leave you alone when you seem to have been triggered by… whatever happened in the game, alright?” John closed his eyes and stopped for a moment. “I know what that feels like, if it’s any consolation.”

 

There were a few more moments of silence, and John watched the door crack open slightly. Half of Alex’s face peered out from the crack, and John could see the faint tear tracks on his cheek, as well as hear the small hiccups that he was trying to keep down. John stood up straight, moving his hands to his pockets.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

Alex nodded, opening the door enough for John to slip inside. John gently tapped his hands against the wall to try and find the lightswitch since he couldn’t see much in the dark bathroom, but Alex grabbed his arm and kept it still.

 

“No,” he quietly said, a hiccup escaping shortly after, and John let his arm down from the wall.

 

“Okay,” John said. “Is there anything you need? A drink of water? A distraction? A hug? A--”

 

Suddenly, John felt the air being squished out of his lungs as Alex clung to John’s chest and started shuddering, and John wrapped his arms around the small, shuddering freshman. John gently rubbed his thumb in a circular motion against Alex’s scapula as he tried to calm Alex down.

 

“Hey, let’s sit down,” he suggested, and he felt Alex nod against his chest. John leaned up against the door, effectively closing it, and slid down until he was sitting. Alex was firmly in his lap and curled up against his chest. In this position, John could feel Alex’s rapid breathing against his neck. He could barely tell when a breath began or ended, and based on how much Alex was shaking, he was approaching the pass-out point.

 

“Hey, Alex, nod if you can hear me,” he gently asked, and he felt a small nod against the bottom of his chin. “Okay, I want you to try and breathe at my same pace.” John began lightly panting like he had been running, hoping that the same breathing trick that--  _ No, we’re not thinking about that right now-- _ would work on Alex.

 

Within a few seconds, he could tell that Alex’s breathing was slowing down and approaching John’s rate, his shaking decreasing. John was starting to get tired from the false panting, and was grateful when Alex reached his pace a few seconds later. John progressively slowed his breathing down, waiting for Alex to steady himself at John’s level before he continued. As the breaths got to more normal speeds, John started babbling.

 

“There we go, here we are,” he would say inbetween hiccups on Alex’s end. He would gently hush when Alex’s hiccups broke into small moments of sobbing, adding on small nonsense whispers when the hiccups would return. Soon enough, John and Alex were breathing at relatively normal paces, and Alex had his face buried in John’s shoulder.

 

“My cousin killed himself,” Alex said into the fabric of John’s shirt, and John stopped rubbing his thumb in a circle. Alex looked up at John and scrambled off of his lap suddenly. John tried to reach back out.

 

“Hey, hang on, I was just--”

 

“If it’s gonna stress you out I don’t wanna…” Alex started to say, but then he started shaking again, and John pulled him back into a hug.

 

“Hey, breathe with me, alright? It’s okay,” John said, and Alex nodded. He closed his eyes and John watched as his breathing returned to a normal rate again, and then he cleared his throat--

 

“John? Alex?” Someone gently knocked on the door. The voice sounded like Hercules, and John cleared his throat again.

 

“Give us a few more minutes,” he called out. He felt Alex startle in his lap, and he put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, rubbing a circle into the muscle just above his clavicle.

 

“Alright, the pizza’s cooled enough to eat, just letting you know,” Hercules said through the door, and John listened as her footsteps faded away. Alex let out a sigh, slightly shuddering at the end, and John pulled him closer.

 

“Shhhhh,” he quietly said, giving Alex a few moments, before picking up where Alex left off. “So, your cousin…?”

 

“You sure you want to… hear about it?” John couldn’t see much in the darkness, but he knew that Alex was timidly looking at him.

 

“I’m sure,” John said, nodding in the darkness. After a moment, Alex began to talk.

 

“My cousin, Peter, killed himself when I was 13,” he began, “and my older brother ran off after he stumbled in on me vomiting in the room where I found Peter. That’s when I was taken in by this American family, the Stevens. They did their best to take care of me, but after 9/11 they had to go back to America, and they took me with them. On the way there, some border agent snuck drugs into one of the adult’s carry-ons, and I was placed into the foster care system. I was separated from the kid, Ned, and to this day I have no idea what happened to him.”

 

John placed his other hand on Alex’s other shoulder, continuing to rub small circles into his shoulder muscles. Alex sighed, and John could feel his arm move to wipe away a stray tear or two off of his face.

 

“I have nightmares about those seconds between coming home from work and finding Peter’s body, and I wonder every single day what would have happened if I had come home earlier, if I hadn’t stopped to grab a quick bite to eat with some of the extra money I got. If I had been more aware, seen more of the signs that James-- my brother-- saw. He had warned me, he said we had to look out for Peter. And then he was gone. And then James left, too. And I wonder… what would it have been like to be used to having a sibling? What would it be like to not be used to constantly moving and never attaching to anyone?”

 

Alex paused for a moment, and John waited the silence out.

 

“I mean, it was definitely traumatizing, but apparently talking about it to Marie while Thomas was in the room was the wrong move. I’m just kinda… used to it. But the way that Thomas freaked out when he started realizing what we were talking about, and the way he made jokes about the suicide specifically… I dunno. It just felt… wrong, you know?”

 

John hummed in agreement. He knew that Thomas was comparatively callous, but he didn’t expect Thomas to react in such a mocking way.

 

“And, I mean, I guess it was just the way that Thomas seemed to…  _ rejoice _ in the way that the video game had declared my… my death,” Alex continued, cutting off at ‘death’. “I mean, it felt like I was back in that conversation, where he was laughing about Peter’s death, and I just… I couldn’t… I couldn’t focus on anything other than that, so I vented my frustration on the video game.” Alex sadly chuckled. “And now I just feel bad, because I bet that everyone thinks I’m mean because I killed them all.”

 

John hummed slightly. “Well, first off, the point of Slayer is to kill everyone else. I highly doubt they think you any more mean for actually doing what you were supposed to do,” John said, and Alex chuckled slightly. “Second, that’s definitely something worth bringing up to Marie or Thomas, sooner rather than later.”

 

“But… what if Thomas laughs at me?”

 

“Then I’ll beat him up,” John replied, and Alex snorted.

 

“John, he’s at least six inches taller than you, he’ll flatten you into the ground.”

 

“Nah, I can hold my own,” John said. There was a moment of silence.

 

“Even then, I don’t want you getting in a fight on my behalf,” Alex muttered. “You’ve got better things to do with your life than that.”

 

“Excuse me,” John said, “But I think I’m the one that decides what I’m going to do with my life, and if one of those things is making sure you feel safe at pizza-and-game night, then I’m going to do it.”

 

“You don’t have to, though. I’ll survive,” Alex said, and John pulled him in for a hug.

 

“But I want to,” he quietly said, and he felt Alex smile against his neck.

 

“I’ll talk to Marie, if it’ll stop you from fighting Thomas,” Alex said.

 

“Sure,” John replied, “Although I don’t know why you’re so fixated on me not fighting Thomas.”

 

“Cuz your face is too pretty to get messed up in a fight,” Alex said, and John snorted. “Also, you’re too nice and too good to fight someone as mediocre as him.”

 

John paused for a moment. “You think I’m nice?”

 

He felt Alex nod against his chest. “Really nice.”

 

John bit his lip.  _ Might as well get this into the air now. _

 

“Even though I totally messed up earlier?”

 

Alex sat up.  _ Shit, shit, shit, shit, I made him remember, he’s going to hate me-- _ “What do you mean, ‘messed up’ earlier,” Alex asked, and John closed his eyes.

 

“You know, at the museum. With the… bleyh,” John muttered.

 

He didn’t know what he expected Alex to respond with, but it definitely wasn’t light laughter. John opened his eyes. They had adjusted to the darkness enough that the light seeping in from under the door was enough to show Alex’s basic body shape. He was still somewhat curled up on himself, but john could see that he seemed happier. He wanted to reach out and pull him back in, but knew that he probably shouldn’t, especially if he did actually mess up the museum date.

 

“John,” Alex said after a few moments, “You just spent a good ten or so minutes calming me down from a panic attack. I would say that we’re even, for now, even though I didn’t help much with what happened at the museum.”

 

John shrugged, even though he knew Alex wouldn’t be able to see it well. “You helped enough, you got me out of there.”

 

There was a moment of quiet. “I’m glad I helped that much, at least,” Alex said timidly. “Are you… do you want to…”

 

“Maybe later,” John said, just as a more urgent knocking rapped against the door.

 

“Alright you two, put your dicks away before I piss myself,” Thomas harshly said behind the door. Both Alex and John bust out laughing, and Thomas’ strangled whine made them laugh harder. John propped himself up against the door, and he felt Alex reaching for his arm. John grabbed the door handle and opened the door, the sudden light blinding both Alex and John.

 

“Gosh, don’t you two know you’re supposed to have the lights on when having sex in bathrooms,” Thomas inquired, pushing them out of the way so that he could scramble to the toilet.

 

“Wow, didn’t know you were the sex god,” Alex retorted, and Thomas hissed.

 

“I’ll bicker with you later, now let me pee in peace,” Thomas bit back, and John ushered Alex further out and closed the bathroom door behind him. He looked at Alex, whose eyes looked a little more tired than usual, but didn’t seem to show any signs of panic.

 

“So, uh…” John started, but Alex waved his hand.

 

“It’s fine,” Alex said. “You don’t have to tell me what happened right now, at least.”

 

John chuckled, and looked down the hall. “So, uh, you wanna grab some pizza?”

 

“Sure,” Alex responded, taking a hold of John’s hand and leaning forward. “Can I… kiss your cheek?”

 

John blushed and smiled, leaning slightly closer to Alex. “I mean… would it be bad if I said you could kiss my entire face and I’d be somewhat okay with it?” John was serious about the ‘somewhat’ aspect, given how his stomach was flipping inside his gut, and how much his brain was screaming that he didn’t deserve Alex’s affection, especially after refusing to tell him the whale story, and especially after it was clear that Alex was the better of the two of them. His thoughts were silenced by Alex gently pressing his lips near the corner of John’s mouth, and John slowly blinked a few times as Alex looked at him.

 

“Was that okay,” Alex asked, and John nodded.

 

“Yeah, it was more than okay,” he said after a few moments, after he felt the stomach flips die down a little bit.

 

They made it back into the kitchen, where Hercules was slicing up their pizza. John and Hercules shared a nod, and John let go of Alex’s hand as he started talking to Marie in French. Hercules handed a pizza slicer to John and they got to work slicing up the pizzas, with Hercules occasionally giving John knowing looks.

  
It was later that night that John retold the whale story to Alex on the way back to the freshman dorms. John had started tearing up during Finding Nemo, which Marie had managed to get Thomas to watch instead of playing Halo non-stop. And it was the following morning that found John and Alex wrapped up in each other’s arms in John’s room, silently cuddling in the early morning light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translation, CW for Thomas being infatuated with a minor from high school (which will come up later):  
> "Thomas! Did you bring the X-Box? " -Marie  
> "Yes, but I do not want your 'little lion'!" -Thomas  
> "Says the disgusting one. You're obsessed with a child!" -Alex  
> "She's sixteen!" -T  
> "And you are an adult!" -A  
> "We are not talking about that right now. (To A) We can shame Thomas later. (To T) You should be ashamed." -M  
> D'accord?=Alright? (M)  
> Bien.=Fine. (A)  
> "Thank the good, merciful Lord." -T
> 
> Spanish Translation:  
> "Little turtle, it's gonna be okay." -Ellie  
> "I'm so mad at him, and I do not know why." -John  
> "You are allowed to be angry." -E  
> mijito= literally translates to "my little", but I have seen it be used as a form of affection towards someone younger/smaller than the person saying it, so that's the context I'm using it in.
> 
> Also, Halo will feature prominently, since it's the video game I grew up with and have very fond memories of. Portal might come later, but not for a while.
> 
> Hit me up at @rambleton and @laramidianphantoms on Tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at @laramidianphantoms and @rambleton on tumblr!
> 
> Also, do let me know directly if you want to be included in beta-reading for this particular story.


End file.
